


Running against the wind

by KeepGoing



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Blowjobs, Colorado, Falling In Love, First Time, Ian can be an asshole, Ian doesn't grow up in Chicago, Ian grows up with Clayton, Ian is emotionally stunted, M/M, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Prostitution, Mentions of Rape, Mentions of Terry being a total piece of shit, Mentions of Violence, Mickey has never been with a guy before, Mickey is running, Mickey would do anything to protect his sister, Milking cows, No mentions of the other Gallaghers at all, Ranch hand Mickey, Rancher Ian, Ranching, Rimming, Secrets, Smut, but so can Mickey, horse back riding, ranch au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:28:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26562145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeepGoing/pseuds/KeepGoing
Summary: Ian Gallagher is a rancher in Colorado, living alone on a huge piece of land he inherited from his father who recently passed. Mickey is a drifter, passing through and running from something in his past. When Ian offers Mickey a job on the ranch for the summer, neither of them would know how the other would change their lives and how they looked at love, friendship and family, forever.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 226





	Running against the wind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aelia_Gioia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aelia_Gioia/gifts).



> Phew. This fic has become my new baby. I took so much time going back over each part making sure it was perfect. I don't usually do complete AU's and I am sure there are other fics like this out there, but I hope you all give it a shot. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I know shit about ranching. Honestly everything I learned was from watching TV.
> 
> Thank you all in advance for reading and I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> Comments are LOVE.

_The years rolled slowly past  
_

_And I found myself alone  
_

_Surrounded by strangers I thought were my friends  
_

_I found myself further and further from my home, and I  
_

_Guess I lost my way  
_

_There were oh-so-many roads  
_

_I was living to run and running to live  
_

_Never worried about paying or even how much I owed  
_

_Moving eight miles a minute for months at a time  
_

_Breaking all of the rules that would bend_

_I began to find myself searching  
_

_Searching for shelter again and again_

Ian Gallagher wasn’t a rancher even though he grew up on one. Born to Clayton Gallagher and Monica Gallagher from a 2-month torrid affair, Ian found himself being throw into a life he never really belonged in. His mother, married to Frank Gallagher, Clayton’s brother, slept with Clayton on and off for 2 months, it only stopping when Clayton moved his wife and family to Colorado to buy a ranch which was his dream since he was a kid. So, when Ian popped out on the kitchen table of the Gallagher house with bright red hair and green eyes, looking exactly like Clayton, Frank made Monica drop him off at his father’s doorstep. 

Clayton’s wife, Lucy, whom he had only been married to for a short time, wasn’t all too happy. It's something he’s been told over and over again in his 25 years of living. She wanted Clayton to give Ian up for adoption, but his father with a soft heart, couldn’t do it. He won the battle; but their marriage was never the same. Even when they had their own child, Jacob, 5 years after Ian was born, Lucy still couldn’t even look Ian without a grimace across her face. 

Ian grew up lonely and unloved, even though his father did the best he could. He showed Ian everything he knew about the ranch; training him on how to take care of the horses, what to feed the pigs and sheep, how to milk a cow and how to even birth a calf. Lucy tended to Jacob; getting him piano lessons and putting him in soccer and other sports. Ian found solace in the farm; in the hard work with his hands and the silence of the days riding the horses around. Lucy always hated the ranch and when Ian was 14, she finally took Jacob and never looked back. His father saw his other son from time to time, but it they never did have the same relationship after that. 

Clayton started drinking after that and then soon he couldn’t even look at Ian anymore either. So, when Ian turned 16, he left and never looked back. He ended up in Denver, staying with strangers and working as a dancer in the gay clubs. He had always known he was; it wasn’t something he talked about, ever. But in Denver he was free. To be who he wanted to be and do whatever he wanted. He didn’t belong to anyone anymore, only himself. There were drugs and bottles of whiskey and men, older than his father, who would pay for a night with him with hundred-dollar bills. There were hotel suites and warm big beds and Apple watches and bottles of champagne. But there were dark alleys too. And waking up in the snow with his ass sore and not a figment of memory of the night before. 

He did this for years. Years of never feeling loved by the hands that touched him and never giving any of his love back. He didn’t know how to love. He didn’t understand the feeling and he didn’t get misty eyed at romantic movies and when he saw two people holding hands he never understood why. What was the point? All love led to pain eventually. 

If was after the porno was made; one he did for $600; when he knew he couldn’t do this anymore. He caught a pretty bad STD from that dark part of his life and that’s when he finally got his shit together and got a job at a diner waiting tables, living in a weekly pay motel. And that’s also when he met Sam. 

Sam was all teeth with his warm smile and deep brown eyes and he was studying to be a lawyer and had his own apartment because his parents were paying for that along with his school. At first it was Ian’s meal ticket out of the hell hole of his life. But eventually, he grew to care. As much as he could about another human being. Ian still wasn’t sure how to be the person he knew he was supposed to be in a relationship, but he tried, he swears he did. And they got comfortable. Ian stayed working at the diner and even started taking online classes that Sam paid for because he kept telling Ian, over and over, how he was meant for so much more. He didn’t push, just offered, and Ian figured why not. He wasn’t paying for it and Sam seemed to care so fucking much, so why not? 

But he cheated on Sam, a lot, because old habits die hard and when he got claustrophobic in their one bedroom apartment with the kitchen towels and queen size bed and 50 inch TV, he made his way back to the clubs and could make $500 in one night, stuffing it into a sock in his drawer and sliding into bed the same night next to his boyfriend who told Ian he loves him every day. 

And then, almost 2 years into their relationship, Ian’s cell phone rings during dinner to find his half-brother calling him. He hadn't heard from Jacob in nearly 5 years and as soon as his name flashed across his screen. He knew. 

Dad was dead.

Ian drove the 3 hours back home to the ranch, surprised to see his ex-step mother waiting for him on the front porch. There were a few boxes on the stairs and as he approached him, she only gave him the same look he used to get from her when he was just a child, handed him a ring of keys and an envelope and got in her car and drove away. 

Clayton had left the ranch to Ian and everything in his estate, including his whole life insurance policy, the entirety of it adding up to almost a million dollars. The ranch had always made money; Clayton selling his cows and bulls at auction for a pretty penny and breading each horse to be a champion all himself. He worked himself to death on this ranch, and in his death gave it to Ian because in all honesty he was the only person he could leave it to. He tried to offer Jacob some of the money, but he declined, Lucy so deep in his head about their father, there was no other opinion that mattered. 

So, Ian never went back to Denver. And never went back to Sam. He left everything behind; honestly not having much. He changed his number and bought all new clothes and decided the ranch would be his home for now, until he figured out when and how he was going to sell it, take his inheritance and maybe go to Spain where it was sunny and the men were dark skinned and beautiful. 

But that was nearly 3 years ago and Ian never could get himself to sell. He packed up his things so many times over the years, but he could never make himself leave. As soon as he wandered into those stables that first day, he remembered how much he missed it. How much of himself was on this ranch. How it may have been the only thing in the world he ever loved and that loved him. Animals care and love unconditionally. There is no resentment or consequences of caring. They trusted and accepted and never made Ian feel like he wasn’t good enough. He felt at home here; the only place he ever did. 

So, Ian wakes up every day at 5:30AM every day and tends to the ranch. He brushes the horses and lets them run in the fenced field and gathers buckets of apples from the orchard and spreads the hay for them to eat and milks the cows for the local pickup for the markets and by 11AM he’s done mostly for the day and he eats his lunch in his empty kitchen and wanders around his even emptier house and sometimes misses his old one bedroom apartment where even though he didn't love the person he lived there with, at least there was a body there with him. Someone sleeping next to him every night. Ian was lonely. Just like he was when he lived here as a child; even when his family was still here. 

But it was never a family, at least it was never really his. His father did try, but heart ache is a thing he could never win over and he had given up way before Lucy took off leaving him behind with the son he never wanted, not really, and the bottle. 

Ian had thought about looking up his other siblings; he knows his mother had other children, but they never looked for him so why should he put himself in the position just to be rejected all over again. It's how he lives his life now. He doesn’t put himself in positions to be left. He leaves before the condom is even off with his lovers, and Sam was a means to an end. Sam was a warm apartment and a body to lay on top of. He thinks about him, sometimes, but only when the nights seem to go on forever. But usually he just drives into town, finds a closeted cowboy, fucks him in the bar bathroom or next to the dumpster outside, and goes back home still with the euphoria of the fuck in his veins and sleeps soundly. 

But the next morning always comes with the sunrise and he’s back to the silence that he used to welcome as a child but now feels like a curse. 

It’s been months since he’s had any stimulation other than his hand, and after a pretty grueling day on the ranch, what he needs right now is a strong drink and a tight ass. He pulls on a tight black t-shirt and fitted dark jeans and a pair of boots and heads down to the local bar where there is always some in the closet chiseled rancher or ranch hand looking to be himself for a night. The head bartender, Toby, is the closest person he has to a friend in this town. His eyes light up when Ian enters the bar and he takes his usual stool almost right at the end. He has a whiskey, neat, in front of him before he can even ask and his eyes are already scanning the bar for his latest conquest. There are a few faces, or asses in his case, that he’s seen before and each one of them is eyeing him, waiting to see if Ian is going to choose them tonight. He remembers Taylor’s ass the best; he liked it when Ian pulls his hair; so, he decides after 2 drinks, he will do. 

But as he turns back to the bar, he notices someone he’s never seen before just 2 seats down from him. He’s nursing a bottle of beer and there is a worn and dirty backpack on the seat between them. His hair looks dark, almost black, in the low bar lights and there are tattoos on his knuckles, but Ian can’t make out what they say. His thick thighs are spread out as he sits and dirt ridden jeans are tight around them. Ian studies his profile for a while, sipping his drink as he watches the man’s Adam’s apple bob as he takes gulps of his own drink. 

He’s fucking beautiful. And he has no idea he is. 

His profile is perfection; from the shape of his nose to the outline of his full lips. He keeps biting his lower lip, keeping his eyes down on the bar and Ian has to adjust himself in his jeans. Twice. 

“Who’s that?” Ian asks Toby when he comes back to refill his glass.

“Don't know. First time I’ve ever seen him. He’s been here a few hours though. Drank 4 beers so far, but he tips well. “

“You get his name?”

Toby laughs. “Nah, man. Not my type. Doesn’t seem like yours either.”

“Your type has tits. And you don’t know what my type is.” Ian can't take his eyes off the stranger. He needs to know everything about him. He can't explain the feeling running through his mind and body. He’s felt need before. He’s felt attraction. And that’s definitely what this is. But there is a sadness radiating off this man; a sadness only Ian can understand. Only he can see. 

Ian slides off the stool and takes the empty on the other side of the stranger. He tenses instantly and curls his fingers hard around his beer bottle. 

“Hey, I’m Ian.”

“Don’t care.”

He’s a little taken back; not that he expected the guy to jump on his dick right then and there, Christ he might not even be gay which is fine; but he’s rude and that’s not something Ian or anyone else in this town is used to.

“New in town?”

The stranger rolls his blue eyes; Ian can see their blue now this close; and continues to ignore him. 

“Staying or just passing through?”

The man sighs heavily, but stays tense. “Haven't decided yet.”

“Where are you staying?”

The man shrugs. 

“Got a name?”

He finally turns his head, not a straight on look, but enough so Ian can finally take all of his features in. And he was right. He really is fucking beautiful. 

“You the mayor or  somethin ’?”

Ian laughs at that one. “Nah, I own one of the ranches here in town. “

“What kind of ranch? Like a bunny ranch?”

Ian snorts. “No.  Redback Ranch.”

“Bareback?”

Ian chokes on his sip of whiskey and the stranger smiles around the opening of his beer. “That your  sorta thing?”

“I  ain’t a fag.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

The man’s shoulders seem to relax a bit at that. “So, seriously. You got a place to stay? A job?”

“Don't know how long I'm stayin’.”

“Well, if you’re looking for work, I could use a ranch hand. It’s a lot to do all by myself and I’m starting to feel it in my back.”

“Maybe you should stay off it.” The man bites back.

“I’m never the one on my back.”

The stranger’s cheeks blush a little at that, but he never takes his eyes off the top of the bar. “So, what, I’d be cleaning up after pigs and shit?”

“No more than cleaning up after people.” Ian leans on the bar, closer to the man that he probably should. He’s flirting, which he shouldn’t be considering the man just told him he wasn’t gay, but a lot of people have told Ian they weren't gay but then were begging for his cock just minutes later. “I can give you a place to stay. Help me on the ranch. 3 meals a day. Its peaceful, quiet. No one will bother you there.”

“You don’t even know me, man. I could be a murderer.”

“Are you?”

“I could be.”

“Hmm. You don’t look like a murderer.”

“And what do murderers look like?”

“Not like you.”

“You don’t know me, man.”

“At least tell me your name.” Ian shakes his glass at Toby for a refill. Its poured and the other man’s beer is replaced before he answers.

“Mickey.”

“Okay, now that’s a murderers name.”

That gets a snort out of Mickey. Ian gives himself a point for that.

“Listen, offer stands. Just until you figure out what you  wanna do. Stay a day. Stay a week. Stay longer. Doesn’t matter.” Ian checks his watch. “Dinner’s at 8 if you’re interested.” Ian downs the rest of his whiskey and gives Toby a small nod before he heads out the door. 

*******

Ian’s just taking the steaks off the grill when he hears tires on the dirt road leading up his driveway. He comes around the wrap around porch and sees the bright TAXI sign on the older sedan and he smiles to himself. Mickey exits the back seat and shuffles his backpack from one shoulder to another and just stares at Ian while the Taxi backs up and out of sight. 

“You’re just in time.” Ian calls out to him. He can tell Mickey is still deciding. He keeps kicking the rocks in the driveway and looking around the large area surrounding Ian’s home. The only sound is the crickets coming out for the night and shuffling of the horses beyond the fence. The porch light is casting shadows on Mickey’s pale skin of his face and Ian knows whatever happens next is going to change his life forever. 

Mickey finally starts to walk up to the porch and his steps are heavy on the wood stairs. “I’m not  stayin ’ long.”

“Okay.” Ian tries to take the bag off Mickey’s shoulder but he clutches it and shakes his head. Ian gets it. It's probably everything he owns in the world. He’s been there. He knows the look on Mickey’s face. The lost, broken look that people only get when they have nothing left. He doesn’t know why he wants to help; maybe because if someone had helped Ian before...

They eat in silence. Ian doesn’t pry for more information but Mickey asks some questions about the ranch, how it makes money, all the right questions and for a second, he wonders if Mickey is going to steal from him. It’s a fleeting thought, but he decides to keep it in the back of his mind to just to keep himself at a distance. Because he’s already losing himself in Mickey’s eyes and mannerisms. And he can read the tattoos across his knuckles now and ‘fuck-u-up' must come with a story that neither of them is probably ready for. 

At least not tonight. 

Ian shows Mickey around the house; telling him he has full range while he’s here of the pool and hot tub and kitchen and anything else he wants. 

“I don’t need much.”

“I get that. But it's here. Think of it as a working vacation.” He opens the door to one of the bigger guest rooms and motions inside. “This will be your room. It has a bathroom attached for privacy.”

Mickey walks in and takes in the large room. “Dude, you in the mafia or something?”

“A cowboy mafia? No, my father left this place to me in his will. Left me pretty much everything. We’re the biggest ranch in the state. We have prized heifers and bulls. Our horses are blue ribbon winners. We sell our cows and pigs all over the state for slaughter.”

“And you do this all by yourself?”

Ian nods. “So did my dad. For years. After my stepmom took off and when I did too.”

Mickey finally let's go of his backpack and sets it down on the bed. “But you came back.”

“It’s home.”

Mickey thumbs at his bottom lip. “I could never go back home.”

Empathy is a foreign feeling for Ian. He’s cared about people in his life, but you live the life you’ve been given and if it sucks, it sucks. But there is something about the tone of Mickey’s voice when he mentions home that Ian can feel deep inside himself. He’s felt that way. He’s been where he is. Running. Hiding. Thinking there was no one out there anymore that cared. 

“You don’t have to.”

Mickey turns to look at him, sitting gently on the king size bed. He bounces a few times and runs his hand over the softness of the comforter. Ian has to wonder when the last time Mickey’s had anything all to himself. A bed. A hot shower. Clean clothes. 

“There’s a washing machine downstairs if you need to do laundry and clean towels in the bathroom. Get yourself a shower. Wash some clothes. Get some rest. I’ll show you around the ranch after breakfast in the morning. Do you like eggs? Pancakes?”

“Food is food, man.”

“Ian. Call me Ian. Ian Gallagher.”

“Yeah, okay Gallagher.”

“Goodnight, Mickey.”

Ian closes the door behind him and leans back against it. 

He’s in deep shit trouble. 

*******

He half expects Mickey to be gone in the morning. But when he shuffles downstairs barefoot, dressed in sweatpants that look about 10 years old and a white wife-beater, Ian has to think about football and vaginas to get his dick from standing at full attention. Mickey looks so soft in the morning; and the circles Ian had seen under his eyes the night before is almost gone. It’s later than Ian likes to start in the mornings; but he’s already put gotten the horses out of the stables and fed everyone for the morning and he figured Mickey needed the rest. It’s almost 8AM by the time Mickey perches himself at the kitchen island. 

“Sorry it's so late. There’s no alarm clock in that room and I don’t have a phone and after I took a shower, I passed the fuck out.”

“It’s okay. You get a free pass today.” Ian sets a plate of eggs, bacon, fruit and toast, in front of him. “Eat. Trust me, you’ll need it being in the sun all day.”

Mickey gives him a small nod and the faintest of smiles. “Thanks.”

Breakfast is awkward but as soon as they are done and the kitchen is cleaned up and Mickey is dressed in Jeans and boots, leaving the tank top on, Ian cannot help but smile when Mickey’s eyes widen in awe at the size of the ranch and all it entails. He introduces each one of the horses to Mickey by name and at first Mickey scoffs but when Goldie, Ian’s favorite, nuzzles right into Mickey’s hand on her nose, it's like the ice that’s formed around Ian’s heart for other people melts into a puddle in the pit of his stomach. 

“Have you ever milked a cow?” Ian asks as they enter the cow pasture. 

“What are you  askin ’ stupid fucking questions for?”

Ian gives a good loud laugh at that one and rests his arms on the fence in front of him. “It’s easy. I’ll show you.”

“So, I just make sure they are fed and the grounds are kept clean and they don’t run off?”

“Pretty much. You doing all that will give me time to bring the cows and steer to auction and sell the pigs to the market.”

“Yeah, okay.” 

They stand there for a while, listening to the cows and sheep and goats all talking amongst themselves, but the silence isn't awkward or thick. It's just nice. It's nice to have someone else in his presence. It's nice to have someone else in the house after all this time. Ian almost feels like the place is haunted, not just with the ghost of his father, but of his childhood and the silence of that, creeping back into the floorboards at night. 

“Think you can handle it?”

Mickey pats his jeans for his cigarettes and offers one to Ian, who takes one even though he hasn’t smoked in years. He even lights Ian’s cigarette before his own, and somehow it feels intimate. He inhales and blows the smoke out through his nose. “I’ve had worse jobs.”

Ian wants to ask what jobs those were. He wants to ask Mickey where he’s from; what he’s clearly running from. He wants to tell Mickey he doesn’t want him to leave, ever. But mostly he wants to tell Mickey that he’s safe here. He doesn’t need to run anymore. 

Instead, he settles with, “Okay.”

*******

“You’re doing it wrong.”

“No fucking shit, I’ve never done this before.”

“You need to hold the teet with your index finger and thumb and squeeze and pull down.”

“This is fucking disgusting.”

“ It's actually not that bad.”

“I don’t mean the way it tastes, which is disgusting that you know what it fucking tastes like by the way, but I mean in general. I feel like I’m violating her.”

Ian laughs and squats down to watch Mickey’s technique. “She can't even feel it, relax.” He reaches out and puts his fingers over Mickey’s on Shirley’s utter. “Okay. Like this. Now squeeze.” He pushes his fingers the way Mickey needs to and when milk drips into the bucket underneath, he can't help but smile when a small smirk forms on Mickey’s lips. 

“See?” Ian eases his hands away and watches as Mickey continues to milk Shirley with perfect  finesse . “You’re a natural.”

“This is still disgusting.”

“ Oh, shut up.”

*********

“How many cards you want?”

“Hold your fucking carrot top. I’m thinking.”

“It’s poker. You’re not curing cancer.”

“Would you shut the fuck up for 5 seconds?”

“Not likely.”

Mickey grumbles and examines his cards, eyebrows furrowed. “Okay. 2.” He sets 2 cards down on the table and snatches his new ones from Ian’s hands with annoyance. Ian takes one for himself. 

“Okay. I’m all in.” Ian pushes all his change into the center of the table. 

“You’re bluffing.”

“No. Seriously. You folding?”

Mickey snorts. “Give me a fucking break.” Mickey mimics Ian’s movement with his own money and watches as Ian pales. 

“You are the worst freaking liar I have ever seen.” Mickey laughs as Ian throws his cards on the table, sitting back, huffing. Mickey just continues to laugh as he counts his winnings. 

*******

“You ever ridden a horse?”

Mickey watches as Ian brushes Goldie, his favorite of Ian’s horses, in her stall. 

“The fuck you think?”

“ Don't think much, because I don’t know much.” Ian answers, deciding not to look at him and his  scowling face. “I could teach you.”

“Yeah, no.”

“Come on. It’ll be fun. When’s the last time you had fun?”

“You  wanna have a heart to heart here as I clean up horse shit?”

“Passes the time. Come on you’ve been here weeks. All I know is that you’re the best poker player I have ever seen. You can drink 12 beers and not get drunk. And you can milk a cow like a pro.”

Mickey just sighs and shoves the hay from Goldies stall into a Iarge wheelbarrow. “I’m from Chicago.”

Ian’s hand stills on the brush and his heart clenches. Its where he was born. Where his father is from. Where he knows he still has siblings he knows nothing about. He glances at Mickey and wonders, for a fleeting moment, if his life had been different, if he had grown up in Chicago, would he have known Mickey? Would they have passed on the street? Would they have gone to the same school? Would Mickey’s life had been different if Ian was there? He shakes his head of the thoughts and goes back to Goldies brushing. “Big city.”

“Yeah, nah. Grew up as white trash as they come. Girl in the neighborhood used to call me ‘The dirtiest white boy in America.”

Ian snorts and moves onto the next stall with Kimber. 

“She wasn’t wrong. Didn’t really give a shit about hygiene back then. Was too busy stealing shit and punching cops and running drugs.”

Ian only hums, not really phased by Mickey’s story. He’s seen worse. He’s done worse. He catches Mickey eyeing him. They stare at each other for a few minutes before Mickey continues. 

“Did a couple of stints in Juvie. But...you know...” Mickey rubs his bottom lip. “Just decided I needed a change. Couldn’t be a fucking piece of shit forever, you know?”

“ So, you ended up in Colorado?”

"Never had any intention of stayin’.”

“So what? You were  gonna just keep going till you reached the ocean?”

“Never been to the beach.”

Ian watches as Mickey cleans each stall perfectly, pausing every now and to wipe the sweat off his forehead with his bare forearm. Ian finds himself  unconsciously licking his lips at that. Mickey is hot. Really fucking hot. And totally straight. Well, maybe. Jury’s still out. But Ian intends to find out. 

“Leave a girlfriend back home?”

“ Didn't leave  nothin ’ back home.” Mickey mumbles as he pushes the wheel barrel past him. 

Ian finishes up in the stables and decides he should make a few calls to set up his meetings with the local slaughterhouses for his sell day and find out when the next auction was for his bulls. He paces through the house as he talks on his cell, watching Mickey through the large wrap around windows of his house. It’s only been 4 days but Mickey has taken to the ranch like he was born into the life. He was a hard worker; never complained, except for the heat, and last night, when Ian got home from Old Man  Cavanagh's ranch a few miles up the road, Mickey had already made them dinner. 

Ian still  doesn't know Mickey’s entire story, but he can tell when someone is running. And he knows  he’s running from something. Mickey is skittish;  he’s constantly looking out the windows at night and during the day, whenever there is an unknown noise anywhere on the ranch, Mickey is on high alert. Mickey had even asked him if he owned a gun and made Ian show him where he kept them. ‘Just in case’ Mickey had told him.

Ian wonders if there was someone looking for Mickey. He had just confessed he used to do a lot of shady shit back home and he has to wonder if Mickey brought some kind of trouble with him and if that trouble would eventually come looking for him. But even though that should scare Ian or even think twice possibly about Mickey staying in his house, it doesn’t. Ian lived on the streets for years. He knows how to fight. And he owns guns. And for some reason he trusts Mickey. He shouldn’t, Ian knows that, but Ian has been around his fair share of pieces of shit in his life, and even though Mickey believes he is one of those pieces of shit, Ian knows he’s not. 

There is something about how careful Mickey is. His expressions about things Ian says. He  can't put his finger on it,  it's just in the way Mickey carries himself, like  he’s holding too much inside him and he was  gonna burst at any second. Like Mickey  hasn’t had a second to relax his entire life. Moving from one awful thing to the next. But Ian is going to change that. He was going to show Mickey he could be safe here. No matter what. 

By the time Mickey comes in for the night, Ian already has dinner cooked and plated. He has it set up on the coffee table and Netflix already cued up. There are two unopened beers next to their plates and Mickey is rubbing the sweat off his neck with his t-shirt and Ian can’t help but ghost his eyes down Mickey’s chest and torso as he does. Mickey catches his gawking, raises one eyebrow but then gestures toward the coffee table. 

“This a date?”

Ian stops breathing for a second but then has to remember this is just how Mickey jokes around with him. 

“Just thought we could have a relaxing night. You worked hard today and I made about 10  grand in sales on my pigs. Celebrating.”

“ Gonna run me a bubble bath too?” Mickey looks over the side of the couch at the grilled chicken and salad Ian has plated. 

“If that’s what  you're into.”

Mickey smirks. “Gimme 10. Gonna shower.”

Mickey is back  in 12, and flops down next to Ian on the couch in sweats and a black tank top and Ian has to force himself not to look at Mickey’s arms as they reach for his beer or his lips when he wraps his mouth around the neck of the bottle. Ian decides to shove salad in his mouth to keep himself from either moaning or saying something he was going to regret. 

“What do you  wanna watch?” He asks, mouth full. Mickey just shrugs and cuts his chicken. 

“ Don't know man. Can't remember the last time I saw a movie.”

“What do you like?”

He shrugs again. “Normal shit.”

“So romantic comedies?”

Mickey narrows his eyes, chewing. “Fuck off.”

Ian laughs and lands on ‘The Departed.’ “Ever see this?”

Mickey shakes his head and Ian gapes at him. “Seriously? Oh my god, you’re  gonna love it. Trust me. Right up your alley.”

“You don’t know me.”

“Everyone likes ‘The Departed.’”

Mickey just ‘ mmm’s and shovels food into his mouth as he sits back as the movie starts. 

Over 2 hours later, Mickey is sitting on the edge of the couch, 4 scattered beers bottles on the table in front of him and his eyes wide as he watches the credits roll.

“Are you fucking kidding me!?”

“I told you.” Ian clicks the TV off and smiles as Mickey takes his feelings about the movie. “Everyone loves ‘The Departed.’”

Mickey nods and scrubs his hands over his eyes, laughing a little. “Fuck.”

Ian cleans up the mess on the table and Mickey quickly stands to help him. “I got it.” Ian tells him. Mickey sits back down and cracks his knuckles. 

“Thanks.” He mumbles. 

Ian cleans up the kitchen from dinner and pushes start on the dishwasher when Mickey finally comes into the kitchen, leaning against the island. Ian can tell he wants to say something, but  it's almost like he  can't .  It's quiet, Ian just washing down the counters as Mickey watches him, something in his eyes. Something different. Something that  hasn’t been there before. But he knows Mickey won't talk. He  isn't ready. 

“Look,” Ian folds the dish towel in 4 and places it on the counter. “I know there’s stuff you’re not telling me. And  it's okay. We all have our pasts. Secrets. Things we think people won't understand. But whatever it is  you’re running from,  you’re safe here. Whatever happens, whatever was before, I can handle it. You can handle it.”

“You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about. You think you can understand anything about my life? What I’ve been through? Come on pretty boy, with this huge ass house and you’re ten grand you just made today? You think just because Daddy dearest died, you know anything about shit?”

Ian slams his hand down on the counter and comes quickly next to Mickey’s side, inches from his face. “My wonderful father had an affair with his brother’s wife. And 9 months later, out pops me, looking just like him. He  didn’t want me, but my mom and my uncle made him take me. My stepmother hated the sight of me. I can count on both hands the number of full sentences that woman said to me my entire life before she up and left and took my brother with her. My father was never the same. Drank until he blacked out every night. He  didn’t care about me or this ranch anymore. So, I left. I fucking took off and slept on the street and sold myself to old perverted men who I let  touch me and fuck me and use me just so I could eat and have a warm place to stay. I danced in gay clubs for years just so I could feel something. Anything. I was addicted to drugs. Then I met someone. Someone who cared about me. And I  couldn't have given two shits. I fucking left him the first second I got and came back here when my father died. I rebuilt this ranch all by myself. I did all this. So,  don’t stand there and tell me I  don’t know anything about pain and regret and bad decisions.  Don’t tell me I  don’t live with the fact that I left my father to die here, alone.  Don’t tell me I  don’t know what it's like to not have your parents love you. I have no idea what you went through. I  don’t know shit. But whatever it is, whatever you think I  don’t understand, you can shove right up your fucking ass, Mickey.”

Ian shoves past him and storms up the stairs to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. 

*******

Ian is honestly floored when he wakes up the next morning to find Mickey making breakfast. He says nothing to Ian when he places a plate of eggs and bacon on the table along with a cup of coffee. Ian just sits and eats, trying not to look at Mickey as he cleans up after himself. Ian is almost done with his breakfast by the time Mickey finally sits at the table with him. 

“Look, I’m not trying to be a dick. I appreciate what you’re trying to do for me here. And I get it. You’ve been through some shit too. And fuck man, I’m sorry for that. But my story is a little different from yours.”

“Then tell me. Help me understand.” Ian pleads. 

Mickey shakes his head. “I can't. Not yet. I  wanna stay. I  wanna help. But you  gotta let me do things in my own time. There are things you  can't know. Because I  can't tell you. You need to just accept that. If you  can't , I can go. I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

“Then leave it alone. But understand the second I  don’t think  it's right for me to be here anymore...if I  gotta jam, you  gotta let me go. And understand.”

Ian nods. “Okay. Okay.”

“Good.”

Mickey leaves to start his day, leaving Ian sitting at the table, more confused than was before. He knows it must be something  pretty fucking bad to have Mickey so  riled up...and  it's probably something Ian may never know. He figures he will  probably only find out when the  cops show up to haul Mickey away or some weird gang shows up and puts bullets through Ian’s house. Ian should  probably care more. He should care more about the fact that those things could happen but instead the only things he cares about is making sure Mickey is safe and keeping him here. With Ian. 

Ian laughs to himself at how ridiculous he is and goes upstairs to get dressed so he can get himself ready for the auction. 

6 hours and  almost 100 grand later, enough to get him through the upcoming winter months, Ian decides what he needs, more than anything, is to get laid.  It's been months and with Mickey living in his house walking around shirtless or working on the ranch all  sweaty, if Ian  doesn’t get his dick in someone  soon, he might spontaneously combust. 

“Where  ya going?” Mickey asks from the couch. He’s leaning his head back to look at Ian when he comes down the stairs dressed in jeans and a flannel. He even styled his hair. 

“Down to the bar. Going to meet someone.” He lies. 

“Oh. Have fun. Use a rubber.”

Ian scoffs and glances once back at Mickey before he leaves; nursing a beer, watching an old rerun of Law and Order. 

As soon as Ian enters the bar, he immediately feels better. Toby smiles and starts to pour him a whiskey as he settles in at the bar. 

“Where the fuck have you been?  How’s the stray you brought home? He  house trained yet?”

“Ha. Ha.” Ian sips his drink and eyes the pickings in the bar. “He’s a good guy. Needed a job. I had one. That simple.”

“ So, you  haven't fucked him.”

“He’s not gay.” Ian mumbles. 

“Right. Ian, he makes Justin Bieber look straight.”

“How the fuck would you know?” Ian gives his friend an annoyed look. “I’m just here to get my dick sucked as usual.”

“How about that guy?” Toby points down to the end of the bar and when Ian sees him, he instantly feels sick to his stomach and dizzy. No. It  can't be. What is he doing here?

Because sitting only 5 barstools away, is Sam. 

“What the fuck?” Ian whispers. He gets up, intending to get the fuck out of there as soon as possible when Sam turns his head and catches his eyes. 

“Ian?”

Fuck. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuckity fuck. 

“Jesus Christ.”

“Ian! Finally. I was just about to head over to the Ranch after I found out which one it was.” Suddenly Sam is right there in front of him and Ian  can't move. He  can't breathe. It's been 3 years. 3 years since Ian ran out on him without a phone call or even a Dear John letter. 

“What are you doing here?” Ian finally asks, not recognizing the sound of his own voice. 

“You mean, finally coming to track you down after you left the apartment to go to your father’s funeral and then never fucking came back?”

“Sam, I’m sorry...I...”

“You’re sorry? Do you have any idea what you put me through? I thought you were dead! You didn’t call. You left all your stuff behind, Ian! And you took my fucking car? What kind of a person does that? After everything? I was paying for your school!”

“I  can't do this, Sam. I need to go. You shouldn’t be here.”

“No, Ian. I’m right where I should be. Because I deserve answers. I deserve to know why after years, YEARS IAN, you would do that to me. I want to know!”

“Sam, please keep your voice down.” Ian’s eyes are shifting around the bar to find most of the locals looking at the scene unfolding in front of them.

“No, I don’t think I will. What? You don’t want all your friends in town to know you were just some cheap whore before you met me, huh? Shaking your ass for old men at a gay club? Giving  blowjobs for-”

“AY! I’m pretty sure he told you to keep your fucking voice down.”

Ian turns to find Mickey sauntering into the bar and right up to them.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“None of your fucking business.” Mickey steps between Ian and Sam, glaring up at the ex. 

“And this is none of your fucking business. This is between Ian and I.”

“Well, whatever the fuck problem you got with Ian, you also got with me, so I suggest you step the fuck back.”

“This your new boyfriend?” Sam asks Ian. “Little small for your type. But scrappy.”

Mickey chuckles low in his chest and thumbs at his eyebrow. “The fuck you just call me?”

“Listen, I’m sure Ian here has you completely snow balled, no pun intended, with his chiseled face and puppy eyes, but the truth is, he’s going to make you think he gives a shit. That he cares and then  he’s going to leave you high and dry. Thousands of dollars in debt.  It's what he does. Once a whore, always a whore.”

Before Ian has a chance to even respond; scream, yell, spit in Sam’s face; Mickey’s fist connects with Sam’s jaw so fast and hard, Ian hears the crack before he can even register that Mickey hit him. Sam drops to the floor and Mickey stares down at him as he rubs his knuckles. 

“Fuck.” Mickey whispers and suddenly Sam is gripping him around his knees, trying to bring him to the ground. Mickey wobbles, grabbing at the back of Sam’s shirt to get him off him. They wrestle to their knees as they jab at each other; face, ribs, and when Sam head butts Mickey, all Ian sees is red. He grabs a beer bottle off the bar and slams it over Sam’s head. It shatters, a large piece piercing into Ian’s hand. He yelps and wraps his other hand around his gushing hand. Mickey finally stands, wobbly on his feet from the fight and looks at Ian and the blood spreading out onto his fingers from the wound. 

“Fuck, man.” Mickey grabs a few napkins from the bar and takes Ian’s hand in his. Ian just stares down at him as Mickey tends to his wound. “We need to get you home and get this cleaned up.” He gives one last look at Sam,  unconscious on the ground. 

Ian looks at Toby who looks pissed, confused and amused all in one look. “Go.” He says. “I’ll call the cops. Tell them he started it.” 

Ian gives him a small smile and watches as Mickey heads toward the door. 

“Not gay huh?” Toby teases. Ian rolls his eyes and when he hears Mickey call for him, he looks to find Mickey giving him an annoyed look from the door. All he can do is smile, as blood runs down his arm. 

*******

“This might need stitches.” Mickey grabs a washcloth off the edge of the sink and wraps it tightly around Ian’s hand. He never realized how small Mickey’s hands were compared to his. But his fingers are strong but his touches gentle as he holds the cloth firmly around Ian’s wound and uses his other to rummage around in the cabinet above the sink, knocking things out and into it below. He finds a box of gauze and medical tape and uses his elbow to shove it closed. He turns back to Ian, eyes focused, and slowly and tenderly unwraps his hand. Ian watches as Mickey winces at the cut but gets to work quickly, running the cloth under water and clearing the blood off so he can see what he is working with. 

Ian wonders how many times Mickey has had to do this. He looks like he’s seen some things; he wears the weight of darkness on his shoulders and Ian could recognize that darkness anywhere. He didn’t even realize he had mumbled the question in his head out loud until Mickey stills his movements on his hand. 

“Had to patch myself up a lot.”

When most of the blood is gone and there is just a clear gaping wound on the palm of his hand, Mickey opens one of the gauze wrappers with his teeth and tears off pieces of tape. He grabs the peroxide and opens it, hovering over Ian’s hand when he looks down into his eyes. “This is  gonna burn like a mother fucker.”

Ian can only nod, unable to look away from those blue eyes. They are so dark right now; open and worried and Ian can’t breathe. But it’s keeping him focused on something other than the shooting pain and Mickey keeps his eyes on his as he pours the liquid all over mutilated palm and onto the floor of the bathroom. Ian hisses through his teeth and lets out a pained groan from low in his throat, chin forcing itself down unconsciously against his chest. When he opens his eyes finally; when the bubbling of the peroxide finally subsiding; that’s when he sees it. 

Mickey’s cock hard and straining against his jeans. He can tell Mickey is thick; you  can't miss that with the way the denim hugs Mickey’s big thighs. Ian swallows, loudly and slowly brings his eyes up, taking a little too long to stare at Mickey’s chest through his worn t-shirt; Ian’s worn t-shirt that hangs loosely around those  stocky shoulders; and their eyes meet, the gauze still between Mickey’s teeth and Ian’s chest is  heaving and he can't tell if it's from the pain or the fact that this man is so close to him and obviously turned on by something. The groan? Maybe. Or  maybe it's just Ian. 

Something happened tonight. Something shifted. Mickey came to that bar because he knew Ian was going to get laid. Ian doesn’t know if he did it to stop him or maybe he went there to get laid himself. But instead he stood up to Sam, took a few punches and a pretty decent head butt that is causing a nice sized bruise to form on Mickey’s forehead. Ian didn’t understand why. But maybe he does now. Mickey cares about him. More than Ian thought he did. And maybe, just maybe, Mickey is gay. 

Mickey finally covers the cut with the gauze and secures it with the tape and steps back, admiring his handy work, rubbing at his bottom lip, cock still packing a half chub. Ian can't help but flick his eyes downward before quickly brining his eyes back up to the blue again. They both remain perfectly still, minutes passing, with no words between them. Just heavy breathes and  _ something  _ in the air between them. When Ian feels like he may burst from the heat radiating through his body, he finally reaches his good hand out and runs just his fingertip along Mickey’s arm, hung at his side. The hair is so dark there, and he loves the way it feels on the pads of his fingers. Mickey takes in a short intake of breath and lets it out slowly as Ian just moves his fingers up and down his arm slowly. He wonders when the last time Mickey’s been touched. If he’s ever been touched like this. 

Ian doesn’t know much about Mickey’s past, but he knows he doesn’t like to be touched or have someone to close in his space, and he knows there’s a story behind it; probably dark and unsettling and all he wants to do, more than anything, is show Mickey not every touch is underlined with pain. He brings his fingers down lower and traces the tattooed letters on Mickey’s left hand.  _ U-UP.  _ There’s a story behind these too, and he wants to know everything. 

“This okay?” Ian whispers, totally in awe of the way Mickey’s skin is reacting to his soft touches. He can feel the prickle of reaction under his fingertips and Mickey only gives one short nod to the question. Ian moves his hand to Mickey’s shirt covered chest and uses one finger, ever so softly, to feel his body under it. Mickey actually shivers at that; hands curling into fists. Ian stills, eyes focused on Mickey’s, waiting for a sign of what to do next. Or not to. He isn't even sure what is actually happening; he didn't even know Mickey might be gay. He had hoped; Mickey being a main player in most of Ian’s fantasies these past few weeks; but Mickey never gave one meniscal sign that he could be gay. But there was something here; even if it was curiosity; and Ian needs to know how far it goes. He hasn’t touched anyone himself in a long time and he couldn’t think of a single other person he’d rather be touching right now than this man in front of him.

Ian continues his journey down Mickey’s body with just one finger, feeling the ripple of Mickey’s breathing and stomach muscles clenching when he gets to the spot just above the waistband of his jeans. Ian keeps his eyes on those blown out blue ones and he keeps chewing on his bottom lip like he’s trying to figure out what Ian will do next. But he knows the weight of people doing things to him against his will and he won't do that to Mickey. Not ever. 

Ian pulls his hand back and Mickey quickly and maybe a bit too roughly, grabs him by the wrist. He holds it, just hanging there in the air between them and when he pushes Ian’s hand firmly against the bulge, they both can't help the moan that escapes from their mouths. Mickey is hard; really fucking hard; and thick just like Ian thought. Fuck. His mouth waters, but his throat is dry as he just presses the heel of his hand against Mickey’s cock. Mickey’s throws his head back toward the ceiling of the bathroom and his eyes slide shut. Ian can hear the hammering of his heart in his ears and there’s a humming underneath his skin and he doesn’t think he’s ever been this turned on in his life. He’s never been this slow, this cautious with anyone, ever, and he fucking loves it. 

Ian can feel the pulse of Mickey’s cock under his hand; throbbing as he just keeps his hand there; not stroking or even moving his fingers a fraction of a movement. He just holds it; Mickey’s hips moving into his hand as if he’s trying to get himself off. Ian can feel his own dick come to life but he ignores it; too afraid to move. He watches the veins in Mickey’s neck throb and his Adam’s apple bob as he keeps swallowing down tiny noises in his throat at the pressure of Ian’s hand. He is so God damn beautiful and Ian can't help but want to press his mouth to Mickey’s pale neck and leave marks all along it; to claim him in a way he knows he’s never been before. 

After a few minutes of just constant pressure against Mickey’s dick, Ian finally stands from his sitting position on the closed toilet lid and tries not to crowd Mickey too much in the small bathroom space. Mickey looks up at him, bottom lip swollen from biting it, and eyes glazed over with a rainbow of emotions. Ian leans in, bringing his lips close to Mickey’s, when he suddenly turns his head away abruptly and pushes Ian back with a firm hand on his chest. 

“Don’t.”

Ian sits back down quickly and curls his good hand around his stomach. He fucked up. He promised himself he wouldn’t push, and he did. 

“I’m sorry, Mickey. I didn’t mean to push you. I-”

“Shut the fuck up, okay? I...” Mickey sighs heavily, digging his fingers into his eyes. “I’m not...I can’t...” He takes one more deep breath. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“Mickey,” Ian says quietly. “Who hurt you?”

Mickey’s face darkens with something; his eyes blazing quickly with anger and pain, before fading just as quickly as it came. A storm passing through with a strong wind, just to leave the sky bright and sunny again. The room is so silence; 4 walls taunting Ian with words unsaid and nothing learned. He considers just leaving Mickey alone; retiring to his own room to dissect what just happened between them for the rest of the night. And quite possibly the rest of his life. When Mickey still hasn’t spoken in nearly a minute, he stands again, being careful not to get too close to Mickey and he’s almost at the door before he hears it; Mickey’s voice broken and defeated and it shatters Ian’s heart into a million pieces inside his chest. 

“My dad.”

Ian squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, keeping himself from falling apart at Mickey’s confession. He doesn’t turn around yet, just keeps his shoulder against the door jamb. 

“It’s why I’m here. I couldn’t...he beat the fuck of out of me for years. Since I was a kid. If I spilled something. If I looked at him the wrong way. If I fucked up a run. I don’t know...how to be anything but this.”

Ian breathes slowly. “Did you like when I touched you?”

“Yes.” The answer is quick. Ian tries not to read too much into it. This has to be on Mickey’s terms. 

“Are you...?”

The next answer takes a bit, but a soft ‘yes’ follows. 

Ian’s eyes slide shut at the secret he is sure Mickey has been hiding his entire life. Ian turns, looking just over his shoulder at Mickey. “Okay.”

Mickey nods at him. 

“Thanks for patching up my hand. I’m  gonna go lay down. Take a pain pill.”

“Yeah, no problem. If it's still bleeding in the morning should probably get it looked at. By like a doctor or something.”

“Okay, Mick.”

“Goodnight, Ian.”

Ian feels his body tremble at his name on Mickey’s lips and it takes every ounce of self-control to make himself move out of the doorway and out into the hallway.

When he finally gets to his room, hand and cock throbbing, he closes the door gently and leans back against it, finally allowing himself to breathe heavily and pressing his good palm against the wood of the door. 

He doesn’t know what the fuck just happened. But he knows it's  _ something.  _

Something new. Something different. Something special. Something Ian has never experienced before. Something he wants. And maybe something he’s been searching for his entire life. 

*********

Ian is just turning the comforter down to slide into bed when there is a soft knock at the door. 

He hasn’t seen Mickey all day. To say they were avoiding each other is the kind way to put it, but Ian pretty much spent the entire day in the house while Mickey busied himself around the ranch. Ian had watched him a while; shirtless in the harsh summer sun which had turned Mickey’s pale skin to a glistening brown in just one short month. The muscles in Mickey’s back have gotten stronger; tone and flexing as he lifted barrels of hay from one end of the property to the other. Ian knew it was wrong to watch Mickey without his knowledge, but he couldn’t help it. 

Last night had opened something in Ian’s mind and body; something had been growing since he met Mickey at that bar just weeks ago. It’s like Ian’s addicted now; needing to hear Mickey’s voice and look at all the different emotions in Mickey’s eyes. He wants to feel the heat of Mickey’s skin under his hands and mouth. Its why Ian kept to himself all day. He could lie and say it was to rest his hand; which did in fact stop bleeding. But its more than that. He’s afraid to be too close to Mickey right now because Ian doesn’t trust himself. He doesn’t want to push Mickey when he was so open with Ian last night; more open than he’d been since he met Ian and he doesn’t want to do anything that would make Mickey think he needs to leave now. 

There’s another knock and Ian stumbles to the door and opens it slowly. Mickey’s standing there, shirt back on and stuck to his sweaty body. There’s dust on his clothes and face and his hands are worn with dirt from work. 

“Hey.” Mickey breathes out. “How’s the hand?”

“Uh, good. Figured I’d rest it. Didn’t want to get it all dirty and open it back up.” Ian pauses. “Sorry for making you do everything today; I should have asked.”

“No, it's cool. Didn’t want to fuck up your hand. But uh, everything's done. Should be good.” Mickey rubs the back of his neck and his eyes keep flickering around, only landing on Ian every 5 seconds or so. He’s nervous. Ian knows that feeling well.

“Thank you.” Ian says softly. 

“Well, goodnight then.” Mickey gives him a thin mouthed smile and turns on his heel to leave and without a second thought Ian reaches out, grabbing Mickey by the wrist, just like Mickey did to him the night before. Mickey stills, but doesn’t turn around. “Ian...”

“Stay with me.”

Mickey’s body shudders and he shakes his head slowly. “You don’t want me, man. Trust me.”

Ian pulls Mickey gently to him, breaking the distance and presses his face into the moist skin on Mickey’s neck. He breathes him in and he smells like the sun and hard work and the faint scent that’s been lingering in Ian’s home since Mickey came into his life. Mickey pushes himself into Ian’s touch and turns his body to Ian’s and when Mickey’s mouth finds his, Ian’s knees buckle. Mickey’s lips are soft and awkward against his, and he realizes in this moment this is probably the first time Mickey has ever kissed another man. It sends a jolt of excitement through Ian’s body and he deepens the kiss by finally letting go of Mickey’s wrist and wrapping it around the back of his head. The hair at the nape of his neck is still wet with sweat and Ian’s body cannot help but react to that. 

Mickey pushes his body into Ian’s more aggressively and Ian takes the hint and backs them into his room and when Mickey’s booted foot kicks the door closed, Ian knows he’s not letting him out of this room until he’s seen Mickey come undone beneath him. Or above him. Either way. But Mickey is his tonight. 

Mickey pulls back, breathing heavily against Ian’s open mouth and he’s careful with his wounded hand as he  presses both hands against Mickey’s flushed cheeks. He leans back to look into Mickey’s eyes and he looks dazed but wanton under Ian’s gaze and Ian places soft kisses along Mickey’s jawline, then up his cheek and then two identical kisses on Mickey’s eyebrows. 

“You don’t deserve pain, Mickey. You don’t need to be in pain anymore. Let me show you what pleasure feels like. Real pleasure. Let me give you what you need.”

Mickey trembles in Ian’s arms and he flushing at his words. His eyes are closed under Ian’s gaze and he whispers almost inaudibly. “I’ve never...”

Ian knows Mickey is at his most vulnerable right now. He knows what Mickey is telling him right now. He’s never been with a man before. He’s never let another man touch him like this. Kiss him and hold him like he’s something of value. But he is and Ian is going to make sure Mickey doesn’t leave this room tonight without him knowing it. But Ian would be lying if the thought that he’d be the first person to ever have Mickey like this, and as much as it drives an uncontrollable need to possess through him, it also confirms his decision that he is going to make Mickey see that not every touch has to end in bruises. That hands can heal instead of hurt. 

“It’s okay. I’ll go slow. And we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. But...I want you Mickey. Fuck, I want you. I need to taste you and touch you. Tell me how you want to be touched.” Ian slides his hands down Mickey’s neck and grazes his fingertips down Mickey’s arms and down to his hips, just holding his hands firmly on them, keeping Mickey close to his body. Mickey goes where Ian pulls him, loose and pliable in Ian’s arms. 

“Touch me like you  ain’t leaving.”

Ian’s heart breaks and soars all in the same beat against his chest and he slowly  works circles against the skin under Mickey’s t-shirt and pushes it up even slower. Mickey lets him, his body limp at Ian’s advances. Mickey’s shirt is thrown somewhere in Ian’s bedroom and Ian steps back to admire the body he is finally able to see up close. Mickey isn’t as toned as Ian; he has weight on him but it suits his build and his skin looks so soft and when Ian finally gets to run his fingertip against Mickey’s torso without a layer of fabric, he can see the goosebumps form on Mickey’s tanned skin. Mickey’s heavy breathing is cutting through the silence in the room and Ian just takes his time, touching Mickey everywhere so gently, like he knows he’s never been touched before. 

There are scars littered across Mickey’s skin and Ian bends down to press his mouth, open, wet, and hot against each one. Every time his lips touch another patch of skin on Mickey’s chest, he can feel how fast Mickey’s heart uptakes and he gasps low in his throat like he’s surprised at each small kiss. Ian licks a circle around Mickey’s erect nipple and Mickey moans so loudly, Ian’s cock twitches in his sweatpants. Mickey’s hand comes up into the back of Ian’s hair and grips it; the perfect amount of pressure and Ian takes it as green light and rolls Mickey’s nipple between his teeth. 

“Fuck.” Mickey mumbles above him and Ian moves to the other one, leaving a trail of saliva along the way. Ian’s never been this way with anyone before; all the other guys he’s ever been with have been a means to an end. A way to escape the pain in his chest and demons in his mind. He’d never wanted to take his time before; not caring about anyone else's needs but his own. This is the exact opposite of that. He would be fine if he never got off tonight but he needs to make Mickey cum. It’s a fire under his skin that won't be extinguished until he sees Mickey’s face from pure pleasure. Instead of all the pain he normally feels. 

Ian drops to his knees, more gracefully than he thought he would and his hand hovers on the button of Mickey’s jeans. Mickey’s eyes are hooded as he looks down at Ian and gives a small single nod and Ian takes his time undoing Mickey’s jeans and sliding his zipper down painfully slow. He can see how hard Mickey is straining against the denim and Ian leans in to mouth at the bulge just waiting for him. Mickey hums and digs his fingers deep into the back of Ian’s head as Ian leaves a large wet stain with his mouth against Mickey’s covered cock.

Ian tries to push Mickey’s jeans down but is having a hard time with his wrapped hand, so Mickey helps, pushing his jeans down over his hips and down his strong and thick thighs. His boxers go along with the jeans and they puddle at his feet and Ian helps him lift his legs up and out of them. The jeans and boxers go wherever Mickey’s shirt landed earlier, and his cock is exactly what he thought it would be and more. Not as long as Ian’s, most people aren't, but its thick and uncut which excites him way more than he ever thought it would. Ian’s entranced and he makes an O with his thumb and pointer finger around the top of Mickey’s cock, making the tip appear with a slow stroke downwards. It’s shiny and wet with arousal and there right in Ian’s face jutting out just centimeters from his lips. Mickey pushes forward a little on the balls of his feet and the tip of his cock hits his lips and he lets Mickey just smooth his  precum along his closed lips. He darts his tongue out to taste Mickey; savoring it and eyes practically rolling back in his head. Mickey reaches down to cup his balls in his hand, keeping his other resting on the back of his head. 

Ian’s trying to go at Mickey’s speed, and he’s fine with how slow this is which surprises him. Ian never thought he’d enjoy foreplay this much. But this isn't foreplay. Not in the technical sense. This is something so new, so innocent and fresh that Ian feels like he’s 15 years old all over again. It feels like it’s his first time too. 

Mickey pushes forward again, nudging his cock against Ian’s mouth and Ian parts his lips, letting the tip slide tight between his lips. Mickey keens; eyes widening at the sensation and when Ian licks slowly around the tip, tasting Mickey skin and arousal, Mickey’s thighs shake. Ian grabs the back of them, being careful of his hand, and runs them along the thickness of them as he lets Mickey set the pace of pushing himself in and out of Ian’s open mouth. He sets a slow rhythm, which is leaving Ian’s head dizzy with a feeling he can only describe as happiness. He’d let Mickey do this all night if it was what he wanted. Ian opens his mouth wider and Mickey stills his hips for just a moment, before finally sliding his entire cock deep inside Ian’s waiting mouth. It hits the back of his throat, and Mickey’s thick and hot, stretching Ian’s lips wide around its girth. 

Ian looks up and their eyes meet and Mickey’s eyes are the deepest shade of blue Ian has ever seen and Mickey’s fingers trace the bulge of his cock in Ian’s cheeks and he breathes in and out loudly and keeps biting at his bottom lip, which drives Ian fucking crazy. 

“Feels good.” Mickey’s voice is deep with awe and arousal and Ian just keeps sucking and licking as Mickey keeps the pace with his long thrusts. Mickey is in complete control of what is happening here tonight and Ian has never been more okay with anything in his life. Mickey pulls out of Ian’s mouth with a pornographic pop and Ian can feel the drool on his chin and he takes a few deep breathes as he tries to reel himself back in from the pleasure he was getting from doing that to Mickey. 

“I’ll cum if you keep doing that.” Mickey rubs his thumb along Ian’s swollen bottom lip. 

“That’s okay. You can cum in my mouth. I want you to.” Ian leans forward to take Mickey’s cock back, but Mickey steps back before he can get his mouth around it. Ian looks up at him, confused. Is Mickey stopping this? Was this too much? Did he go too far?

Mickey pulls Ian up from under his arm and he stands, wobbly on his feet from being on his knees. He stares at Mickey, waiting to hear him tell him this is over. 

“Want to cum with you inside me.”

Ian’s can barely keep himself from falling back onto his knees, if nothing but to worship this man in front of him. A man who he knows is running from something. Who has to hide his entire life, denying himself what could be happiness and freedom. Ian wants to give him that. He wants to make Mickey feel safe and cared about. He doesn’t want him to flinch whenever he tries to touch him. Ian wants his touch to calm him. He’s never felt like this about anyone. He’s never cared enough to give up everything about himself and what he wants, just to make someone else happy. It’s a new feeling for Ian, but it’s never felt more right in his life. 

He kisses Mickey again at his declaration and they fold into each other as they shuffle toward the bed together, shedding each layer of Ian’s clothing as they move. Mickey’s hands are rough from work and his skin is littered with the remnants of the day, but Ian finds it so incredibly sexy he doesn’t even care how dirty his sheets are going to get. He wants them to smell like the other man; he wants the scent of their pleasure to become a part of this room. He wants Mickey to fall apart under him just so Ian can put him back together again. He wants to do it all night and quite possibly the rest of his life. 

Mickey’s black hair is the perfect contrast against the white sheets of his bed, and Ian kneels over him, his legs barricading him in. His eyes look bluer against the crisp white and Mickey mumbles how soft the bed is and Ian can only smile down at him. Ian still has his boxers on, but they are both hard and leaking, and Ian rolls his hips, once, their cocks jutting together through the fabric and Mickey hisses through clenched teeth, throwing his head back and Ian folds his body down on top of him to latch his mouth and teeth against the pale skin on Mickey’s neck. They moan together, the feel of their hot skin finally connecting and Ian is instantly addicted to the way this feels. He never wants Mickey to leave. It’s a strange and scary thing to feel and think. But there is time to freak out about it later. Right now, he needs to be inside this man. 

Mickey spreads his legs under him and Ian continues to thrust against him and he feels like he’s 15 again; he doesn’t understand how this almost stranger can make him feel like this; and their tongues just lick against each other through open lips. Ian used to kiss because it was something you just did; but he never gave much thought to the actual act. It didn’t feel bad, but it didn’t make him feel really much of anything. But he feels this. He feels what you’re supposed to feel when you kiss someone. How connected it makes you to another person. Mickey’s lips are full and fit perfectly against his and Ian wants to know what they feel like against every inch of his skin. 

Ian kisses everywhere on Mickey’s skin like he did just minutes before; slow, soft kisses and he can feel the how hard he’s breathing under him and Ian has never felt this close to  cumming maybe ever. He wants to suck Mickey off again, but he remembers the request from before and Ian finally balances up on his knees to remove the last of his clothing. When his cock is released and springs up and out into the open air, Mickey’s eyes widen and then darken. 

“Fuck.” Mickey’s hand is tight and hot around it as he watches the length disappear and then reappear from his closed hand. “ Gonna make me a size queen. How am I ever go back after this?”

“You don’t have to.” It's probably too much to say so soon so Ian diffuses the confession with a rough kiss as Mickey still keeps his hand stroking over his cock and now, he knows what  Mckey meant when he said he was  gonna blow so soon. “Stop, I’m  gonna shoot.”

Mickey chuckles and stops stroking, but keeps his hand strong around him. He looks up at him, a small smile still on his lips. 

“You sure you  wanna do this? Its  gonna hurt. I mean, I’ll try to make it as good as possible, but-”

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want it. Just do it.”

Ian frowns, and brushes Mickey’s dark hair off his forehead. “I’m not going to just do it, Mick. I’m  gonna open you up slow with my fingers and mouth. Get you nice and stretched and wet. And then I’m going to slide each inch in until you feel so full you won't be able to breathe.”

Mickey shivers under his body and wraps his legs around Ian’s waist. “Fuck, yeah.”

“Mmm.” Ian slides down Mickey’s body and is pleased when he brings his legs up, clutching them around the back of his thick thighs. Mickey’s ass is a thing of beauty; plump and pale and when Ian finally gets to see his hole, he literally salivates. Its pink and tight and he pushes his fingertip against it and the noise Mickey makes pushes  precum out of Ian’s own cock. He might not even make it inside this man without blowing his load. Ian leans in, just breathing over Mickey’s opening and his legs are already trembling and when Ian circles the tight ring of muscle with the tip of his tongue, there is a long animalistic whine above him. He attaches his mouth to his hole, sucking and licking and jutting his tongue over and over trying to gain entrance through it. Ian grabs Mickey’s hands off his thighs and lowers his legs over his shoulders, and his hands instantly white knuckle the sheets beside him.

Ian takes his time on his ass. It's not something he normally does; a hole was just something to put his dick in for years. But he wants Mickey to feel good. He wants him to remember how this felt; that his first time with a man wasn’t in the back of some alley like Ian’s was. He wants Mickey to remember him; how gentle he was, how soft and attentive. He wants Mickey to crave him. To need him. To want him. Just like he wants Mickey. He lets Ian devour him, soft mewls and tiny gasps of breath escaping him every couple of seconds. He wonders if he can make Mickey cum like this, and he hopes this won't be the last time he has Mickey spread out like this for him, because he wants to try it. 

Ian finally pulls back, wiping his mouth and slides one finger up to the webbing of his hand inside Mickey. He’s still tight, but not as tight as he would have been just 10 minutes ago. Mickey groans and when Ian slides another finger beside it, his ass tightens around them and Ian doesn’t know how much longer he’s going to be able to keep doing this. His resistance to just fuck Mickey right now; shove his cock so hard and deep inside him that he screams; is overpowering. He needs to claim this man; like some sort of caveman like power; but he takes a few deep breathes to calm himself. 

He lowers Mickey’s legs from his shoulders, keeping his hand inside him and leans up over the man under him. Mickey’s eyes are squeezed shut with pleasure and when Ian twists his fingers and rubs along his sweet spot; his eyes fly open and mouth gapes. Ian just shoves his tongue inside it; Mickey not missing a beat and biting down onto it gently. He continues to work his ass open; Mickey’s head rubbing back and forth on the pillow below him and he’s pleading; soft huffs of breath; for Ian to fuck him. Over and over. The same word over and over. Please. And it brings out such a dominant force in Ian he loses himself for a minute.

“You want me to fuck you? You want me to cum inside your tight ass? You  wanna be filled up for the first time?”

Mickey’s body buckles and his hips lift up off the bed so far, Ian’s fingers slip from his hole and his cock ripples and shoots 3 long strings of cum across his stomach and chest. Ian’s eyes wide and without even thinking about it, he leans down and licks his release off his skin. There are hands on his head; fingers digging into his hair and yanking; as Mickey rides out the rest of his orgasm and Ian cleans him with his tongue. 

Ian rests his cheek against Mickey’s chest feeling the hard thumb against his temple as the man under him continues to make small noises. It was the hottest thing that’s ever happened to Ian, hands down. Watching Mickey fall apart like that, knowing he was the one who made him do that, instantly made him addicted. He needed to do it again and again.

He looks up at Mickey; chin resting over his heart; and he’s assaulted with blue eyes. His hands are still in Ian’s hair, just petting him gently; and Ian just smiles at him. 

“That’s never happened before.”

“Well, I’d hope not. Don’t bruise my ego right now.”

Mickey laughs. “Fuck.”

“You  wanna keep going or are you down for the count?”

“Do whatever you want, man.”

Ian crawls up his body and looks down at him. “This is about you. I’ll do what you want me to do only.” He can't pinpoint the look in Mickey’s eyes. 

“I want you to cum.”

“How?”

Mickey swallows. Maybe he’s not ready, and that’s okay with Ian. He places a small kiss to his lips to show him that everything is okay. He can have anything he wants.

“Cum on me. Right here.” Mickey runs his fingers through the leftover mess on his chest and stomach.

Ian’s breath hitches and he realizes Mickey may be a little bit submissive in the bedroom and it makes his cock pulse and he’s up on his knees above Mickey before he can even blink. He makes a show of stroking his length and Mickey watches his hand move, up and down, pupils blown and tongue licking at his bottom lip. Ian wants to keep his eyes on Mickey’s; he knows he’ll shoot in seconds if he does. But he wants this to last a little longer. He wants Mickey to keep making noises like that at the sight of him jerking his cock for him; so, he throws his head back and closes his eyes just focusing on the feeling his hand tight around himself and the memories of Mickey’s cock and ass in his mouth. 

When Mickey’s hand tugs at Ian’s balls, his orgasm punches out of him like a car running a red light and crashing into him head on as he holds himself around his tip and looks straight into Mickey’s eyes and aims his cum across Mickey’s chest and up to his neck. Mickey watches with wide eyes as Ian’s release covers him and when his hand smears through the combined mess on his body, one more spurt of cum dribbles from Ian’s cock. 

“Holy fuck.” Ian whispers. And Mickey just smiles like the Cheshire cat. “There is no way that was the first time you’ve done that.” He falls face first onto the mattress next to Mickey. He’s exhausted; mentally and physically and he didn’t even have sex. That was intense. And Ian doesn’t know if he will actually survive if he fucks Mickey. 

“Guess I’m a fast learner.”

Ian laughs and rolls over onto his back, his breathing eventually evening out. He glances over at Mickey whose eyes are shut and still running his hand over his sticky chest. He looks happy. Free. Calm. And Ian never wants him to stop looking like that. 

“I’m disgusting.” He murmurs but never stops smearing the cum on his chest. 

“It’s fine. I’ll change the sheets in the morning.” Ian pauses. “You staying in here tonight?”

Mickey shrugs, but doesn’t make any sign of movement. Ian will take it as a small victory. Mickey does get up, finally, after a few minutes, leaning over the side of the bed, rustling around for his jeans. Ian’s chest aches with disappointment but when he flops back down, 30 seconds later, with a cigarette and a lighter in his hands, Ian finally remembers to breathe again. He lights his cigarette, not even bothering to ask if it's okay to smoke in the bedroom and blows smoke rings as Ian just stares at him in awe. 

Mickey doesn’t give a shit what anyone thinks of him. He does what he wants, when he wants it. He says everything that goes through his head not caring about the consequences. But Mickey is still running. From s omething dangerous. Something scary. Something he’s done. Something someone did to him. Ian may never know. And he should care. He barely knows this man in his house and now in his bed. And he’s never been a good judge of character; making plenty of mistakes like this before. But there is just something about Mickey; how even with how tough he looks; there is a softness just beneath his skin. The tattoos across his knuckles threaten violence, but all Ian has ever seen is hard work and a man who needs a second chance. 

Ian isn't sure he even knows what love is. He’s never felt it, not for real, from anyone in his life and somehow, he knows Mickey has never felt it either. Ian isn't even sure he’s ever really had a true friend. But maybe they can be that to each other. But Ian’s already screwed up by making this sexual and he wonders if he should just tell Mickey to leave now before this goes any farther. But he knows if Mickey gets out of this bed right now, Ian might die. 

“Why me?” Ian asks gently. Mickey’s rubbing his bottom lip with his thumb, cigarette still half unsmoked, wafting smoke into the silent air. He doesn’t expect an answer and after a few minutes he finally decides to roll over and turn the light off; his body exhausted from pleasure and confusion. 

He keeps his back to Mickey, giving him space to process what just happened. He’s almost asleep when Ian feels the bed shift and Mickey’s face between his shoulder blades. His breathing is fast but shallow; as if he is in the verge of a panic attack. Ian is so still; afraid if he moves, he’ll lose this gentleness. He swears he hears a soft sniffle, but he can't be sure, but his own eyes fill with Mickey’s words.

“Only place I’ve ever felt safe, man.”

*******

Mickey is gone when Ian wakes up the next morning. He groans and stretches; his bones cracking and the other side of the bed is cold. He sighs heavily but expected this. He’s not good with emotions and all that shit and Mickey is 20 times worse. He throws the comforter off his naked body and steps to window to find Mickey down on the farm, feeding Goldie and apple and petting her. Ian can’t be sure but he swears he can see Mickey talking to her. And again, like Mickey always seems to do, he makes Ian’s heart swell. He’s never felt this way looking at another man. He’s never felt anything in his whole life, like what he feels when he’s around Mickey. 

He dresses in basketball shorts and a worn t-shirt, but shoves his  unsocked feet into his boots and nearly startles Mickey out of his skin when he comes up behind him as he feeds Kimber her own apple. 

“Fuck, I need to get you a bell.” He mutters and shakes the nerves off him. Ian smiles and pets Kimber’s mane, never taking his eyes off Mickey. 

“You okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“You really want me to answer that?”

Mickey sighs and carries the barrel of apples over to the other horses waiting for their breakfast. “We don’t need to have some big heart to heart about it.”

“Did you like it?”

“What kind stupid fucking question is that?”

“A valid one.”

“It was fine.”

“Fine?”

“Jesus Christ.” Mickey drops the barrel and turns to him. “The fuck you want me to say? You want me to write some fucking poem about it? It was fine. We got off. That’s all it was.”

“That’s all it was?” Ian feels something deep in his chest and its foreign but it feels a lot like hurt. 

“What? You think we’re boyfriend and girlfriend here?” 

“You said it was your first time.”

“And? I’ve fucked plenty of chicks but yeah, it was my first time...you know...doing that.” Mickey waves his hand toward him and trudges back toward the pig pens. 

“And you’re freaking out.” Ian follows behind him. “You going to leave now?”

“ It's not safe for me to stay here. Not anymore. I’ll  finish up today but then I’m leaving.”

“Why? What’s not safe? Mickey, talk to me.” Ian pulls him by the elbow but Mickey yanks his arm away hard. 

“Don’t.”

“What are you running from?”

Mickey shakes his head and pours slop into the troughs. “Don’t fucking worry about it. The less you know the better. This has already gone too far.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

“Well, doesn’t matter what you want. I gotta.”

“Do you  wanna go?”

“Don’t have a choice.”

“Mickey...”

“I should never...we shouldn’t...you’re not safe with me here. I’ll fuck up your whole life. What you have here. I don’t want to do that to you, okay! So just let it the fuck go, Gallagher. I’m leaving. Tonight.”

Ian watches him as he walks back and forth across the ranch, heaving hay from one end to the other, checking on the horses again and hoarding the sheep to their end of the fencing. He finally walks up to him and grabs the  barrel of hay from his arms. “Come with me.”

“I gotta finish-”

“No, you don’t. It’ll be fine. I wanna show you something.”

Mickey just stares at him. 

“Please? If this is your last day here, I don’t want to waste it with you doing fucking chores. Just come with me.”

Mickey relents, finally. They get into Ian’s truck and its silent for the almost  20-minute drive up the mountain. Ian finally parks it at the top and gets out without a word to Mickey. He stands on the edge; the view looking out onto all of the town. He swears he can see Denver from here and he takes a long deep breath, taking in the mountain air and the silence around him. 

And then Ian screams. 

He screams as loud as he possibly can. It echoes and birds begin to flutter everywhere and he just keeps screaming until his throat is dry and voice scratchy. He swallows and looks behind him to see Mickey half out of the truck and staring at him with wide eyes. 

“What the fuck are you doing? Are you fucking crazy?”

“I come here sometimes. When my head gets too full. When the pain in my chest is so deep that I feel like I'm going to explode if I don’t let it out. I come up here because no one can hear me. I tell my secrets to this mountain. I think you should too.”

Mickey just shakes his head. “You’re outta your mind.”

“Maybe. But it helps.”

It takes him a while, but Mickey finally steps fully out of the truck and comes to the edge. He looks down and then out into the openness and Ian can hear him take an unsteady breath. 

“Whatever it is, just let it go.” Ian whispers to him. “Let the mountain take it instead.”

Mickey rolls his eyes at that remark but he opens his mouth a few times, shutting it quickly, but then finally he lets out a small pathetic scream.

“Louder.” Ian demands. 

Mickey screams. 

“Louder!”

Screams. 

“LOUDER, MICKEY. LOUDER.”

He screams louder than Ian ever has. He screams and screams and when his knees buckle and he falls to the ground in a cloud of dust on his knees. He lets out the smallest of sobs and Ian kneels down next to him, wrapping his arms around the smaller man’s body. 

Mickey lets Ian hold him on that mountain as he cries for the first time in what Ian probably thinks may be ever. And he realizes in this moment, he’s falling in love with him. This man who may be more broken than Ian is himself. A man who is running from something so bad that he his life is literally in limbo. And all Ian wants to do is protect him. 

“I don’t care what it is.” Ian tells him. “I don’t care what you’ve done. You don’t need to leave because you think I’m not safe. You need to be safe. I can keep you safe. No matter what it is. I promise.”

Mickey pulls back, cheeks wet and eyes red. He sniffles and rubs his nose and pulls back a little more than Ian wants him to, but lets him. 

“Remember that night we met? When I told you that you didn’t know me? That I could be a murderer?”

Ian goes completely numb. “What happened?”

Mickey shakes his head and tries to pull completely out of Ian’s arms, but he tightens his hold on him. 

“No, tell me. You can trust me. Just tell what happened.”

Mickey sits back onto his ass and pulls his knees up to his chest so he can wrap his arms around them. Ian keeps his hand on Mickey’s arm. 

“My dad...he was a real piece of shit. Angry drunk, drug addict. Lifetime criminal. Had be involved in his bullshit pretty much all my life. Used to beat my mom until she finally left. Never saw her again. Used to beat the shit out of me and my brothers on a daily basis. Broke 4 of my ribs. My nose probably a dozen times. He was just...a real piece of fucking shit. He always seemed to like my sister the most. Pretty much left her alone  cept ’ for some yelling every now and then. But then, about 6 months ago, I come home from a run for him and I hear screaming coming from Mandy’s room.  Of course, I book it in there and he’s in there, on top of her...” Mickey swallows hard and squeezes his eyes shut. “That’s when I realized. He must have been doing it for a while. Maybe her whole life. I don’t know. She never told me. She never fucking told me.” Mickey grits his teeth and lets out a slow breath. “I fucking lost it, man. It's like my whole mind went blank and all I saw was black. I don’t remember anything until I came to and I’m holding a hammer covered in blood and there was my Dad, there on the floor. Mandy’s clothes are ripped and she’s just staring at me. And my Dad, he’s not moving. I was used to fights and blood you know, but I  ain’t never seen so much blood.”

“Mickey...”

“My sister finally shook me out of whatever daze I was in. Told me to go. Told me to just pack a bag and leave and don’t look back.  So, I did. Dropped my cell in the sewer and hitchhiked till I got here.” He looks at Ian. “And you came into that bar with your goofy fucking grin and an offer that seemed too good to be true. So, the truth is, Gallagher. I am a murderer. I killed my father. And I don’t know if the cops are looking for me or what, but I killed someone. I’m not who you think I am.”

“You have no idea who I think you are. And you did what you had to do. He was hurting your sister. Anyone would have done the same thing, Mick.”

“You don’t fucking get it. It  don’t matter what a piece of shit he was, he was my Dad. And you know I think deep down, he always knew I was a big old mo. Used to call me a fag, but never any of my brothers.  It's like he could sense it on me. Its why I never...I never even tried. I  couldn’t get caught. He would have killed me.”

“It’s okay. I understand.”

“You couldn’t possibly fucking understand any of this? You ever kill your fucking father?”

“Hey, I told you about my family. My father. I might as well have killed him. I left him behind. I was the one thing he had left in the fucking world, other than the ranch, and I left him? For what? Because I had Mommy issues? Because I was the black sheep? So that entitles me to take off and sell myself like some fucking whore?”

“You did what you had to do. This world is fucked and so are we. We play the hand we’re dealt and then lights out.”

“Yeah, well then you did what you had to do too. And I don’t care what you did. I still want you here. I still want you. And I can keep you safe. They will never find you. You can change your name. I don’t care. Or I’ll sell the ranch and we can go anywhere.”

“The fuck you talking about? You  ain’t selling shit. I don’t belong here, Gallagher.”

“I wanna be where you are, Mickey.”

“You  don't get to be.”

“Don’t say that. We can make this work. Please, don’t leave. You’re the first person...the only person I’ve felt this way about. I never thought I could. You made me feel something again, Mickey. You. And I can’t let that go. Please, don’t make me let that go.”

“And what happens if they find me, huh? You know how much trouble you’d get into for hiding and abating a murderer? I’m not letting you go down for that.”

“I don’t care.”

Mickey sighs heavily. “You are one stubborn son of a bitch, you know that?”

“Yeah? But you like me, don’t you?”

“You’re alright.”

“You didn’t say that last night.”

Mickey scoffs and brings his legs out straight in front of him. 

“Wanna go home?”

Mickey looks at him; his eyes soft but still red-rimmed. He looks almost calm. Like all the weight he had been carrying around was finally gone. Ian wants him to stay looking like that forever. And he will do everything he can to make sure that happens. 

“Yeah. We can go home.”

*******

It's like they are tip toeing around each other once they get home. They check on the horses and the rest of the livestock,  finishing up for the night. When Ian asks Mickey if  he’s hungry he just shakes his head and toes his boots off by the front door. He stretches; the weight and pain of the day cracking off his bones and Ian  can’t help but eye the patch of skin on his stomach when his shirt lifts. Today had changed everything. Ian feels like he knows Mickey now; in a way he never thought  he’d know anyone. 

Mickey is flawed. He has scars, physical and emotional. He’s done the worst possible thing a human being can do and it haunts him in every movement he makes in every second of everyday. It’s like a stain on his heart. And Ian would do anything to take it away. He knows Mickey did what he had to do. He doesn’t think differently of him because of it. If anything, it just shows Ian the kind of man Mickey really is. The kind who would do anything to protect the ones he loves even if it means doing the impossible. The unthinkable. 

But Mickey is running, because it’s the only thing he knows. But Ian doesn’t want Mickey to run anymore. He doesn’t have to. He wants Mickey with him. Here. Possibly forever. 

Ian takes off his boots and puts them beside Mickey’s by the door and turns to him and before he can talk himself out of it or before Mickey heads up those stairs to overthink the day, Ian grabs Mickey around the back of his neck and pulls him against his mouth. Surprisingly, his mouth opens wide to Ian’s; their tongues sliding against each other’s hotly. One of them moans,  maybe they both do, and Mickey’s arms come around Ian’s tall frame; clutching the back of his shirt, digging his blunt fingernails into his skin. He backs Mickey up against the door, Ian pushing his knee against his crotch to get his legs apart. Mickey throws his head back against the door and Ian latches his mouth against his neck, sucking,  biting and licking the pale, soft skin there. Mickey nails are raking down Ian’s back; clutching at the back of his neck, just to push his hands deep into his head and then back down his back. Like he  can't figure out what to do with his hands, or he  can't figure out what part of Ian he wants to touch next. 

Ian pulls back, breathless and eyes dark with lust. “I need to be inside you. I  can't wait anymore. Please.”

Mickey’s eyes roll back into his head and he lets out a long slow breath. “Yes. Yes.”

He grabs Mickey by his wrist and brings him up the stairs; the slow movements of their body contradictive of the neediness just seconds before. As soon as Ian shuts the door to his bedroom, he presses his forehead against it, trying to control himself. He  can't be aggressive in this. Mickey deserves more than some lustful fuck. He deserves to know how beautiful sex can be. How intimate. It's not something Ian has ever really experienced, but he knows it can be. That it should be. And he wants to experience that with Mickey. 

But Mickey  seems to have other plans, by the time Ian turns around, Mickey is as naked as the day he was born; pale skin perfect and cock already hard and  jutting out just waiting.  He’s fucking beautiful and Ian’s skin is already flushed and hands tingling to touch. He steps toward Mickey, shedding his clothes with each shuffle of his feet. When he reaches him, his naked skin mirroring Mickey’s; they come together in a  jumble of limbs and lips. Mickey starts on Ian’s neck, working his way down with soft licks of his tongue until  he’s on his knees in front of him; wrapping his hand around the base of Ian’s long dick and licking the dribble of precum that has leaked out due to it. Ian  can't take his eyes off him, as Mickey licks around the head, getting a taste of it. It's warm and wet and Ian has had his cock sucked a million times by all different types of men, but Mickey  hasn’t even wrapped his entire mouth around him yet, but its already the best one  he’s ever gotten.

When Mickey finally slides his lips down and over Ian’s cock, getting about half of it into his mouth, Ian rakes his fingers through Mickey’s hair and grips it, maybe a little too hard, but when Mickey moans around him, the vibration going straight to his balls and washing a wave of pleasure he’s never felt before over him, Ian knows Mickey might be into the same type of things he is. Mickey sucks cock like he was born for it; or maybe he just likes sucking Ian’s cock. He cups his balls with his free hand as he jerks the rest of Ian’s cock he can't fit into his mouth as he hollows his cheeks and runs his tongue on the underside of Ian’s pulsing dick. Ian feels weak on his feet, arching his back and throwing his head back with each up and down movement Mickey is making. 

Ian feels euphoric. Because he feels something from this. This isn't just an act of sex to him. This  isn't just some way to get off; to unload stress or to make money. He wants this. He feels in deep in his chest and his head feels clear and he needs Mickey. He needs his sarcasm and witty  banter . He needs Mickey’s heart and goodness. He needs Mickey next him, waking up soft and happy. He needs Mickey. More than  he’s ever needed anything. 

When Ian’s cock falls from Mickey’s mouth with a pop so he can take a breath, Ian hauls him up and smashes his mouth against his. Its messy and filthy; mostly tongues just licking over teeth and lips. Ian pushes him toward the bed, Mickey willingly letting Ian steer him wherever he wants. He flops onto the bed and pushes himself up to the pillows; Ian watching as his strong body molds into the soft mattress underneath him. Mickey strokes himself with slow, precise jerks of his palm as Ian watches him under hooded eyes. He crawls over Mickey’s body, laying open mouth kisses up his abdomen and chest; paying special attention to Mickey’s soft nipples and the sounds he makes while Ian licks and sucks at them; feeling them pebble and pucker in his mouth. Mickey is literally panting under him, hands finding any area of skin on Ian’s body, pulling and digging fingertips into it. 

When Ian catches Mickey’s eyes as he licks a slow almost torturous circle around Mickey’s left nipple Mickey bites his lower lip and Ian almost  cums right there all over the sheets. He rubs his cock against Mickey’s thick thigh as he brings himself to hover over Mickey, arms on each side of his head. He looks down at the man under him; so open and willing and Ian can barely contain the feeling in his body. 

“Stay with me.”

“I’m right here, Gallagher.”

“No, stay here with me. Forever.”

Mickey slowly frowns. “I don’t think I can, Ian.”

“You can. I  won't let anything happen to you.”

“You  can't promise me that. And it  ain’t your responsibility anyway. It’s mine.”

“Not anymore.”

“What you  gonna marry me? Go down to the courthouse like a couple of old queens?”

“If you want to. This way we  can't testify against each other. Nothing you told me can used against you. I want you to trust me.”

Mickey’s hand reaches up to cup Ian’s face. “I do. But it  ain’t that simple. And you  don’t want to marry me.  You’re dicks  just hard and you feel like you need to do something to help me. But you  can't .  So, let's just enjoy what we got, okay? Until it ends.”

“It doesn’t have to.”

“Everything ends eventually, Gallagher. It’s just life.” Mickey pulls Ian down to his mouth and Ian decides to let Mickey have this one for now. Instead of words, Ian’s going to show him with his body how he feels. How it can be. How perfect they are together. Because Ian knows it. He knows Mickey came into his life for a reason. This  isn't coincidence. This is something more. So, he kisses Mickey with everything he has inside him. Every feeling. Every fear. Every ounce of hope he has. He kisses him until their lips are swollen and sore and their cocks are so hard and leaking all over each other. Ian leans over to grab the lube and a condom from the side table, dropping them on the bed next to Mickey’s body. 

“Are you sure?”

Mickey just nods and reaches down to hand the lube to Ian. 

Ian’s hands shake as he slicks the lube over Mickey’s hole; taking his time like he did last time; working 2 then 3 fingers deep inside his ass as his hole clenches around Ian’s hand and Mickey shudders and cries out with every brush over his prostate. Ian scissors and curves his fingers and watches his fingers stretch Mickey wide. Mickey is begging again above him, like he did the other night and Ian knows  he’s not going to let this night end, like it did last time, without being inside Mickey. When his fingers fall from his ass, Mickey whines at the loss but Ian is quick to snatch the condom and tear it open with his teeth. He keeps his eyes locked with Mickey’s ass he rolls it over his cock, fingers trembling. He  can't believe  he’s the nervous one in this as Mickey looks so calm and utterly blissed out.

“I’ll go slow. It’s going to hurt. To be honest it might not even feel good.”

“Not possible.” Mickey tells him softly. Ian suddenly relaxes at the tone in Mickey’s voice and the look of pure trust on his face. He positions himself over Mickey, folding his legs up at the knees and tapping his thigh to let him know to wrap them around his waist. Mickey’s movements are almost graceful like and Ian has to wonder again how Mickey can never have done this. But Ian knows it's because he trusts him. And that turns Ian on more than anything. 

The first push is the hardest. His tip is swallowed up my Mickey’s tight hole because no matter how much time he took opening him up, he knew it was going to be a hard intrusion. Mickey’s eyes widen and he clenches his teeth, but Ian stills, letting him get used to the burn and intensity. When Mickey’s muscles seem to relax in his body Ian pushes in inch by inch. Mickey takes it; his hole opening eagerly with every push of Ian’s hips. He can tell it hurts. He can see the pain wash over Mickey’s face but when Ian bottoms out, his hips flush against Mickey’s and he changes the angle just slightly inside him, Mickey’s eyes glaze over and his mouth makes a perfect O shape and he lifts his hips off the bed to meet Ian’s final thrust. 

Ian knows he’s finally found the spot and right angle to make the pain subside and pleasure to take over. They stay like that for a while; Ian just balls deep inside his ass; their lips hovering over one another, just breathing in each other’s breathes. Ian moves his face to press his face into Mickey’s neck as he gently and slowly pulls out just to push back in. Mickey moans and kisses the side of Ian’s face, his breath leaving moisture against it.

“Holy fuck.” Ian whispers feeling Mickey’s ass tight and hot around him. Sex has never been like this. Sex has never felt this intense.  It's never felt this good. Ian can play it off saying it's because Mickey is a virgin, but Ian knows he fucked a lot of guys who never had a dick up their ass before. This  isn't that. Ian’s falling in love. And if he  didn’t know what that feeling was before, he knows it is now. He loves Mickey. 

Mickey is clinging to him, the heels of his feet digging into Ian’s ass as his hips start to find more momentum. Ian can feel as Mickey’s hole starts to open up and take Ian’s cock with ease. Ian knows it still hurts, even if just a little, but Mickey doesn’t let it show on his face. Between the soft gasps and small moans, he sometimes lets a small smile appear on his lips. It feels good. Ian is making him feel good. And it’s making Ian’s cock swell and a shiver to prickle on his skin. 

“You feel so fucking good, Mick.” Ian grabs Mickey under his thighs, pushing his strong legs almost all the way up to his chest and gets up on his knees and starts thrusting into him so hard and deep, Mickey’s body starts sliding up the bed more. Mickey reaches his arms out to wrap his hands around the headboard and pushes down to meet Ian’s hips with his own. 

Fuck. Yes.

“Harder.” Mickey pleads, head thrown back and tongue sitting wet and pink against his lips. Ian leans down to kiss him hungrily and keeps fucking into him, bringing his cock almost all the way out of Mickey’s ass but his hole always catches on his tip; tight and needy, keeping Ian inside him. Ian looks down to watch his dick disappear in and out of him; red and swollen and swallowing his length over and over. It’s the hottest thing Ian has ever seen, even in porn. He’s never taken the time to look before during sex; he’s never cared to; but Mickey is so sexy and pliant under him, giving as much as Ian is taking as he fucks him. They are covered in sweat and their Mickey’s stomach is soaked in precum and Ian didn’t expect Mickey’s cock to stay hard because most guys he’s fucked for the first time don’t even get off. But Ian knows his cock is long enough to hit that spot inside Mickey and he makes sure he keeps doing it because Mickey’s cock could cut glass and his balls are tight against his body and Mickey is completely and utterly blissed out. 

“Right there. Fuck right there, Ian. I’m so fucking close. Don’t stop.”

Ian growls and grabs Mickey by his ankles and spreads his legs wide and continues to slam into him. Mickey is white knuckling the headboard and all Ian wants to do is stick is nose in his armpit and inhale the scent of him. And Mickey would let him, he knows it. 

“Say it again.” Ian moans. Mickey’s eyes lock on his and he knows in that moment Ian isn’t asking for his pleads or his dirty talk. He knows what Ian needs. 

“Ian...Ian...” Mickey moans and Ian’s orgasm hits him with punch into his balls and he grips Mickey’s ankles so tight he knows there will be bruises tomorrow and he fills the condom deep inside Mickey’s ass with a few final pushes. As Ian feels the final burst of his release inside Mickey, his ass tightens around him and Mickey screams, the wood snapping on the  headboard into his hands and cum spurts out of his dick in long almost violent ropes onto his chest and neck, one burst  actually hitting Mickey in his chin. When they finally get every drop of cum out of themselves, and Ian releases Mickey’s legs back down onto the bed, Mickey brings the broken piece of wood out in front of him and gives Ian a  wide-eyed look. 

And then they laugh. 

They laugh for a long time, Ian’s cock finally slipping from Mickey’s ass and he has to reach down and hold it at the base of his dick so the condom doesn’t spill his cum all over the bed. They still giggle as Ian ties it off and throws it somewhere on the floor and gently takes the piece of broken headboard in his hand and drops it onto the bed. 

“Guess  it's safe to say you enjoyed that, huh?”

“You just have a shitty bed.”

“Oh, is that it, huh?” Ian is smiling when he leans down to kiss him. Mickey’s hands frame his face and their kiss is deep and it seals what just happened between them in a perfect moment. When Ian rolls off him and flops down in a heap of post orgasmic bliss, Mickey curls into his side and traces small circles with his fingertip on Ian’s chest. There is a buzz coming off him and Ian wants that feeling to last in Mickey forever. “Safe to say you’re first time was a success.”

“It was alright.”

“Oh? I don’t think I’ve ever seen another guy cum like a goddamn waterfall before.”

“What can I say? I’m not like the other guys.”

Ian grabs Mickey’s hand on his chest and squeezes, intertwining their fingers. 

“No, Mickey. You’re not.”

******

It's been over a week since they’ve had sex and they are drinking beer on the back porch, watching the sun go down and the horses in the pasture and Ian wonders how his life turned into a romantic comedy. With a little side of porno. He’s fucked Mickey every night since that first time; even sometimes during the day too; over every surface of the house. Kitchen counter, table, couch, stairs, floor, shower and once in the barn on a pile of hay. Mickey was picking it out of his ass for the entire next day. 

He did things with Mickey he’d never done before. And it wasn’t just sex. He taught Mickey how to ride a horse which ended with Mickey falling off but Ian catching him before he hit the ground and broke his back. They fell into the dirt and laughed for a good 20 minutes before Ian gave him a blow job for being so brave. 

But the sex stuff was the best. Not because it ended with sometimes multiple orgasms between them, but because after they fucked in numerous positions and Mickey let Ian do things to him that could quite possibly be illegal in some states, they would just lay there and talk. Ian told Mickey a lot about his teenage years. Admitting to a lot of the horrible things he did to himself in those years. He talked about his dad; not all of it being bad; and admits he wishes he had known his mother. 

Mickey talks too. He talks about Mandy the most and stupid shit his brothers did. He talks about all the shit he’s stolen and the two times he got shot; once stealing from a local convenient store and another when he tried to rob some old divorcee’s house. He had  mistakenly gone back for a grandfather clock he had no business trying to carry by himself and she came down the stairs and caught them, putting a shotgun shell deep into his ass cheek. 

“I wondered what that scar was from. I thought maybe a  Pitbull bit you on the ass.”

Mickey just flipped him off and then flipped them over so he could ride Ian deep into the mattress.

With every word from Mickey’s mouth, Ian fell deeper and deeper into him. It was like Mickey was filling a hole in him that he  didn't even know was there. Ian felt whole and complete for the first time in his entire life. He fell asleep every night with his arms wrapped around Mickey and when he woke in the morning, Ian was engulfed in the warmth of Mickey’s arms around him. 

They talked a lot, but the one thing they hadn't talked about was Mickey’s dad or the Sam thing. They have just been working on the ranch and soaking in every second they’ve had together like at any moment it was going to be ripped away from them. Because the truth is, it could. 

“Have you tried calling your sister?”

Mickey whips his head to look at him. “Are you  outta your fucking mind?”

“Mickey  it's been months. Don’t you think you should see how she is? What happened? If anyone is looking for you?”

“The point of running is to leave no trace behind.”

“What if I called her?”

“Why the fuck would you do that?”

“So, you know she’s okay. To find out anything. Don’t you think it would make you feel even a little bit better to have any kind of  information ?”

Mickey sighs heavily and gets up from the porch swing. “Drop it. We  aint calling Mandy. Its better this way, trust me. The less she knows about where I am the better.”

“And what if she’s in trouble, huh? What if the cops came and they decided Mandy was the one who did it? Ever think about that? And she’s rotting in some jail cell?”

“Fuck. You.” Mickey pushes his finger deep into Ian’s chest. “You don’t know the first thing about me or my sister. You weren't there that day. You...just fucking drop it. I mean it, Gallagher.”

The screen door slams on his way in and Ian gets why Mickey  doesn’t want to reach out back home, but  it's all Ian has been thinking about. Ever since they had sex, it's like Ian is so scared that at any minute Mickey is going to be taken away from him. And he will do anything to make sure that  doesn’t happen. 

Mickey has  evidently decided he was going to be spending the night in his room, instead of Ian’s like he has been all week. So, he decides to take this time alone to do something he knows he  shouldn’t do. He opens google on his laptop and types in:

Milkovich+Chicago 

A slew of hits come up from Terry’s long list of arrest records and even Mickey’s. There are obituaries for a bunch of Milkovich’s but none of them are Terry’s. The only news articles are for the arrests, but no murders. In fact, there isn't single speck of evidence that Terry Milkovich is dead. He does find Mandy’s Facebook and is happy to find that it's not private. The last picture she posted was 3 days ago of her in a skimpy tank top and cut off shorts hanging off monkey bars in a park. She’s smiling and the sun is bright behind her causing this really cool affect in the picture. The caption reads:

**_ Missing when we used to come here as kids. _ **

Ian  can't be sure, but  it's like  she’s sending a message to Mickey. Ian goes to get up off his bed to go show Mickey, but slowly sits back down, staring at the screen with sadness. If only Mickey knew. If he could just tell Mickey how good Mandy seems. And how there  isn't a fucking thing about Terry. Either he  didn’t kill him or he did and nobody even gave a crap that the piece of shit was dead. But Mickey would kill him. He would freak the fuck out if he found Ian was doing exactly what he told him not to do.  So, for now, Ian would keep this to himself. At least he could sleep at night knowing Mickey was safe. He would tell Mickey eventually. So, he too could stop looking over his shoulder. But now  isn't the time. 

But even with that decision, it doesn’t stop Ian from clicking the message button on Mandy’s page. 

******

Things  don’t come to a head until they are sitting at dinner 2 nights later and Ian’s phone rings from a number he  doesn’t recognize.  It’s a Chicago area code though and Mickey sees it before Ian has a chance to snatch it off the counter. 

“Who the fuck is calling you from Chicago?”

Ian pales and just stares at Mickey, opening and closing his mouth a few times, unable to get any words out. 

“Are you FUCKING kidding me right now! Is that Mandy? What the fuck did I tell you, Gallagher?”

“She’s safe Mickey! And I don’t think your father is dead. Or if he is no one gives a shit. No one is looking for you! You’re safe!”

“I told you to leave it the fuck alone. This is my life your fucking with!”

“It’s my life too!  It's my life because you’re in it!”

“Not anymore.” Mickey slams his plate down full of food and he’s shoving his feet into his shoes and Ian runs to him. 

“No, don’t go. Please. Please don’t go.”

“I’ll come back for my shit.”

“Mickey please. I wanted to tell you, but why can't you see this as good news! I know you want to see your sister again! And now you can.” Ian reaches out but Mickey pushes him back, hard.

“I don’t know who you think you are, but you have no right to pry into my personal business. I told  ya what I told you because I thought I could trust you. And you promised me you’d let me handle it. You said you could handle this. But instead you did the exact thing that I told you not to do!”

“I don’t understand why you’re so fucking upset. Why  aren't you happy!?”

“Because Mandy is better off without me! Now with Dad gone she can move out of that shithole of a city and finally do something with her life. And if I had been there, if I’m in her life she’s going to stick around because she thinks she owes me something. But she doesn’t. She doesn’t owe me shit. So no, I  didn't want her to know where I was and I didn’t want to know where she was!” Mickey opens the front door but Ian slams it out of his grip. 

“She misses you. She’s worried about you. She said she has to tell you some things. She’s been wondering where you have been.”

Mickey thumbs his bottom lip and turns around to look up at him. “Who did you tell her you were? Hmm?”

“I told her you work for me.”

“Thats it?”

Ian swallows hard.

“Fucking perfect. So not only did you do what I asked you not to do, you outed me to my fucking sister.”

“She didn’t seem too surprised.”

“ Oh, fuck you.” Mickey pulls open the door again and when Ian tries to push it closed, Mickey punches Ian right in the jaw. “This is done.  I’m done. Done. Done.”

“No.” Ian rubs his jaw. “I love you. I... don't want you to go.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t love you.” The door slams behind him and Ian cries for the first time since he was a kid.

*****

Ian knew it was Mandy as soon as she walked into the bar. With long black hair and bright blue eyes and that ‘don't fuck with me’ look, she could have been Mickey’s twin sister. He waves at her and she smiles and that too, was the spitting image of her brother. 

“Hey.” She whispers and they do the awkward ‘should we hug’ dance before they finally do and even though she’s wearing perfume she still, under the surface, her smell is also just like Mickey’s.

She sits and he orders them two beers and the silence between them is  deafening for a few minutes. 

“He left.” Ian finally mumbles. 

“Yeah,  it's what he does.” Mandy says around her bottle of beer. Shit, she even drinks like Mickey. 

“He was so pissed. He asked me not to get involved but I just couldn’t after-”

“You fucked him?” Mandy laughs. “I honestly cannot believe my brother takes it up the ass.”

“Yeah, he was pissed I told you that too.”

“Listen, Mickey is a hard shell to break. To be honest I am utterly shocked he even took you up on the offer to live with you. Mickey doesn’t just accept help from people. Always thinks he needs to do everything himself. Thinks he needs to take care of everything himself. It’s why he took off in the first place.”

“He told me you told him to leave.”

Mandy growls. “Of course, he did. No, he dumped my dad’s body under the L and then came home, packed a bag, told me to  go get a better life, hugged me and then I  didn't even know where he was until you messaged me.”

“Why would he lie?”

“Because. He thinks that all this bad shit is because of him. He blames himself for what our dad did to me. He blames himself for our mom leaving. He thinks he needs to protect everyone when no one’s been protecting him.”

“I tried to. He smiled with me. He laughed. He let me hold him in the mornings. He became different with me.”

Mandy gives him a small smile. “I  can't imagine my brother being like that with anyone.” She pauses, sipping her beer. “You love him?”

“Yeah.” Ian whispers. “Told him and he told me he doesn’t love me.”

“Fuck, he is such a dick.”

“I deserved it. I betrayed his trust. And  it's too soon. It's only been 3 months.”

“First real relationship, huh?”

“First one I actually cared about. And it  wasn’t a relationship. He was my ranch hand who I fucked.  It's very Lifetime movie.”

“Well he stayed for a reason.”

“Because I gave him 3 meals a day, a roof over his head and I sucked his dick.”

“Sounds like a relationship to me.”

Ian laughs and clinks his beer against Mandy’s. “So, you’re Dad’s dead?”

“Yeah, that’s the funny thing. He’s not.”

Ian spits his sip of beer all over the bar. “WHAT?”

“Yeah, turns out Mickey didn’t kill him. But he took off right after it happened. Was in the hospital for a while. He told the  cops Mickey tried to kill him, but they  didn’t believe him. My dad has tried to murder more people than I can count on 2 hands. So, they  didn’t even listen to him. But then he just took off. About a month ago my brother told me he called him from a state prison in fucking Arkansas. Got picked up when they raided a huge drug ring down there. Wrong place, wrong time. With all his priors, he got 20 years.”

“Holy fuck.”

“Yeah, I tried to find Mickey. But he must have gotten rid of his cellphone. I gave up after a while. Figured he’d come home sooner or later.”

“Well, he’s gone now. I fucked it up.” Ian looks at the girl sitting next to him and misses Mickey more than he ever thought he would. He knew one  day; he’d probably have to let Mickey go. He knew they  couldn't live in their bubble forever. But he was sad. It  wasn’t like when he left Sam. He  didn't feel anything when that ended. But now, with Mickey gone, it's like a piece of him is missing. 

“Well, maybe one day he’ll come back to us.” Mandy lays her head on his shoulder and Ian intertwines their fingers on his lap. 

******

Mandy goes back home to Chicago the next day and the end of summer fades in and soon the leaves are falling and crunching under Ian’s boots. The fall brings cold nights and soon there is snow on the mountain tops and Ian’s going to have to put the chains back on his tires soon because Colorado winters can be brutal. He weather proofs the ranch for the harsh weather and spends most nights at the bar, drinking and talking to Toby who never mentions Mickey after that first time. Ian had just  shaken his head, tears brimming on the surface of his eyes, and Toby never asked again. 

Winter came with snowstorm after snowstorm which kept Ian cooped up in his house for weeks. And  that’s when he missed Mickey the most. When the house was too quiet and all he could hear was the bitter cold of the snow falling outside. His house still smelled  faintly of cigarette smoke and no matter how many times he washed his  sheets; Ian could still smell Mickey’s skin on them. 

It didn’t last long, but whatever he had with Mickey will always be the most important thing that ever happened to him. It taught him he could care about someone other than himself. That he wasn’t completely broken. That he could move from what he had done in his past and start over. That he didn't need to be that fucked up teenager anymore. That he could let people in. That he could let people care about him too. He had wanted everything with Mickey, but deep down he always knew he couldn’t. But he would always remember him for what he gave him. What he taught him. And he hopes,  where ever Mickey ended up, that he was happy. And safe. And that he would find someone again who would see just how amazing he was. 

Ian finishes his whiskey and pads around the house, shutting off all the lights and making sure the heat was turned up for the harshness of the night when he hears a car pulling up to the house. The headlights are bright against the snow and wonders for a moment if it’s the park patrol coming to check up on him. They do from time to time, just make sure the livestock was okay and that everything on the ranch was operating right. But when Ian pulls the curtain back on the front window the loud white ‘TAXI’ sign stares back at him and he suddenly gets DeJa'Vu and he’s running to the door barefoot and fumbling with the locks. He throws the front door open and steps out into the snow on the front porch, not giving two shits about frost bite. 

It  can't be. 

It  can't . 

But it is. 

Getting out of the back of the taxi, like a literal dream come true, was Mickey. Same backpack hung over his shoulder, but he looked good. Clean and his hair is shorter than it was in the summer. Fluffy and almost curly on top with the sides shaved. He has dark jeans on and boots and a heavy winter jacket. It looks too big for his frame but he is still the most beautiful thing Ian has ever seen. 

“Hey.” Mickey calls as the Taxi pulls away. 

“Hi.” Ian breathes out. 

Mickey steps through the thick mounds of snow and up the stairs, stomping the snow off his boots when he gets onto the top step. He stares at Ian, bottom teeth chewing onto his lip and Ian feels like his heart is about to pound right out of his chest. 

“Sorry I’m late.” Mickey says gently. 

Ian can only let out a shaky sob from his throat and grab Mickey around the back of his neck to pull his mouth to his. And it feels like coming home. He feels like he can breathe again. That his life is starting all over. Mickey grips Ian tightly by the front of his shirt as he kisses him deeply; almost inhaling Ian through his lips. 

When they finally pull apart, Mickey presses his face into Ian’s neck. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t care.” Ian says quickly, wrapping his arms around Mickey. “I don’t care.  You’re here.  Don’t say  you're sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Fuck, I missed you.” Mickey whispers. Ian presses a soft kiss against Mickey’s head. 

“I fucking love you.”

******

After:

The last of the snow has melted and the flowers in the fields are just starting to sprout when Mandy finally comes to the ranch for a visit. Ian does all the things with her that he first did with Mickey, except she ends up being able to ride a horse like a pro. 

“It's because of all the guys she’s ridden.” Mickey snorts as he watches his sister’s horse gallop around the field with her on his back as she laughs and  squeals . She looks free and happy; her black hair flowing behind her. 

“Like you don’t ride me once a week.” 

Mickey just flips him off and smiles as he watches his sister.

Ian finds out from Mandy that when she got back home at the end of summer, Mickey was there waiting for her. Waiting for whatever consequences awaited him. But he soon learned what Ian had known about their father and he cleared up a few things in town, made sure his brothers were in check and made sure it was okay to leave Mandy alone before she finally convinced him and eventually pushed him out the door with a plane ticket back to Colorado. 

Mandy stays for  Memorial Day and they get drunk down at the bar and smoke a joint on the back porch when they get home and watch the fireworks. Mickey sits in Ian’s lap as they pop and light up the spring sky and Mandy looks over a few times at her brother and him and smiles. 

Mandy leaves with a 10-minute hug from her brother, them whispering to each other as Ian stands back and lets them have their moment together. Mickey is quiet on the way home, but he looks calm and the silence  isn't a bad thing . Ian  doesn’t fear the silence anymore. Not like he used to. He knows Mickey is happy. He knows Mickey  isn't going anywhere. 

The summer comes in with a vengeance and they get their pigs ready for market and that spring each heifer birthed a calf which meant huge profits for the ranch. Mickey was usually up before Ian most mornings; coffee already made and the stables already cleaned by the time he finally stumbles out of bed. Mickey always says Ian is the brains and he’s the brawn in which Ian has to remind Mickey that he’s the one balancing the books for him and making sure they can keep the lights on and they’ve been saving to take a vacation to the beach like they always wanted. 

They fight until the walls almost come down; sometimes plates are thrown and vicious words are spewed because Mickey is stubborn and Ian, being the reigning champion in that department,  doesn’t back down even when he knows  he’s wrong. Punches are even thrown sometimes; a fight for dominance; which never actually ends with either of them winning. But they never go to bed angry and even if one of them is still annoyed the next morning, the coffee is always made and they never leave the house without kissing each other goodbye.  It's their one rule. Because life is short and you never know what could happen. 

Mickey is back on the ranch for 8 months before he finally tells Ian he loves him. Ian had just fucked Mickey as he was bent over the bed on his hands and knees and Mickey came untouched while Ian railed into him so deep and hard his own orgasm made him black out for a second. Mickey is smoking his typical post coital cigarette and he just rolls his head across the pillow and says it so openly. So calmly. Like he says it all the time. 

Ian  has to keep himself from both crying and smiling like an idiot. Instead he just kisses Mickey gently, tasting the familiar nicotine on his lips and mutters a simple ‘ditto.’ He wonders if  it's too unemotional but Mickey smirks at the word and Ian wonders if his life could get any better in this moment. 

It’s Mickey who asks Ian to marry him one year  later on the beach in Malibu. Its cliché and completely unlike Mickey but Ian  realizes that’s what makes it so Mickey. Ian  has to call Mandy after it happens and she shrieks so loudly, Mickey can hear it as stands at the shoreline. He just looks over his shoulder at Ian, smiling. The California sun looks good on Mickey’s already tan skin and  he’s growing his hair out again and Ian loves everything about it. 

He loves everything about Mickey. 

Ian didn’t know his life was going to change that night in the bar. He didn’t know that some stranger running from himself would end up becoming the love if his life. But Ian realizes as Mickey falls asleep on his shoulder on the plane ride home that they had both been running their entire lives. They thought for a long time they had been running from something, but somehow in between all the pain and secrets they realized they had been running toward something just not realizing, until it was almost too late, that they had finally found it. 

With  each other . 


End file.
